The Grounds Keeper's Son
by stick-figure-jesus
Summary: Kira Izuru had gone  to the cemetery to visit his parents. AU. T for shounen ai.
1. Met You in the Cemetery

Kira Izuru knelt at the headstone, bowing his head. He pressed his hands together, his lips forming silent prayers for the deceased, blonde hair falling in a sheet in front of his face, shadowing his closed blue eyes. It had been many years since they had died, and Kira's prayers were beginning to lose any urgency they once had, turning now into a mere hello. The fragrant smoke of the lit incense wafted into his face as he rose his head to study the names of his parents engraved into the cool gray granite headstone with a wistful gaze. _See you soon_, he thought, rising. _Mother. Father._ He turned on his heel, slinking away, staring at the ground. Another uneventful visit to his parents' grave. Kicking at a pebble, he glared to his right at the rustling trees. Abruptly, his cheek came into contact with a shoulder and a neck, and his foot caught on an ankle, causing him to tumble forward.

"Maa, someone ain't watching where they're walking!" A mocking voice said from above. Izuru pushed himself up from the ground to kneel and rub his cheek, irked. A spidery hand was offered to him, and he grudgingly took it, long white fingers curling around his palm. He shivered, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Another ivory hand joined the other, efficiently brushing off the shoulders of Izuru's dark jacket. "There ya go," The voice said. Looking up, Izuru took a step back from the face smiling back at him. Silver hair framed a pale face, and a snide smile that forced his eyes into half-closed slits. The skinny hands retreated into pants pockets. "Ya look familiar. Do ya come here lots?" The young man asked.

Izuru stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and ducked his head. "Yeah. I visit my parents' grave. Quite often, actually." He said to the ground.

"Ah," The young man's silver head bobbed up and down, his unnatural smile never falling from his lips. "The Kira grave. I'm Gin, by the way. Ichimaru Gin. Good to meet you." He held out a thin hand. Izuru shook it, immediately returning his hand to pocket. Gin's fingers were cold. "My old man's the grounds keeper here."

"Nice to meet you." Izuru kept his eyes trained on the gravel of the path. What was this guy doing, visiting such a secluded grave like the Kira's, even as the ground keeper's son? "I'm... Izuru."  
Gin's smile grew somehow larger. "I'll just leave you on your way then, Izuru-san." He gave a small wave as Izuru ghosted past him.

Izuru looked up at the sky, shrugging off what just happened. All it was was a strange boy, the son of the grounds keeper, who was merely making rounds and happened to meet Izuru.

* * *

It wasn't a week until Izuru returned to his parents' grave. He was so busy with school, what with the end of the term and all. Summer recess began, week after next. So again he knelt at the cold granite headstone proffering prayers to the dead, head hanging, hands clasped, incense burning. He looked up as a rain drop landed on his parents' headstone and rolled down it, leaving a trail of wet behind itself. Another landed on the back of his neck, and another on his hand. He stood up after several minutes as the rain began to fall more heavily in a summer shower, soaking his jacket and extinguishing the incense. Turning to head back to his car, he was met by a smiling face.

Ichimaru Gin stood in the rain, holding a black umbrella in one slim hand, his taunting yet steely and familiar smile plastered to his pale face. It was grim, like a scene from a murder film. Izuru surpressed a grimace. "Ya looked lonely," Gin said, shrugging. "An' now ya look wet. Would ya like an umbrella?" Gin held out the depressing-looking umbrella.

"Thanks," Izuru said, trudging up the path to receive the black umbrella from Gin.

"No problem." Gin's cheek twitched in what appeared to be a wink. "Allow me to walk ya to your car. It's the blue Toyota, right?"

Izuru gave Gin an odd stare. "That's creepy." He shuddered as Gin threw up the hood of his gray raincoat, the two of them shuffling down the gravel path.

"What? I have lotsa time ta kill, ya know." Gin put his hands in the pockets of his raincoat, rain dripping off the brim of his hood.

"Don't you have school? The term ends next week." Izuru asked, gripping the handle of the umbrella.

"Can't afford it." Gin stated simply.

"Oh," Izuru said, looking down.

"It's all right," Gin's smile looked sad. "I don't feel like I'm missin' out on anything." Izuru flicked a sideways glance at Gin. "Your eyes are blue," Gin noted, his smile returning to its usual mischievous nature. "So are mine." His cheek twitched in a wink again. "But enough about me. Let's hear about you." Gin nudged Izuru with his elbow.

"Well... If you must know, I'm a student and I drive a blue Toyota."

Gin snickered. "There's gotta be more to you than just that. Whatcha studying?"

"I'm majoring in philosophy and minoring in poetry." They entered the main part of the cemetery, the gravel of the path turning into pavers, headstones lining the narrow aisles. An air of melancholy settled around them, the kind that was unavoidable in a place like this, surrounded by so much death and decay. The rain still poured down, and Izuru was glad for Gin's depressing umbrella.

Gin's dark blue galoshes stepped in a puddle. "Sounds smart. Do you got any hobbies?"

Izuru looked down at his soaked canvas tennis shoes. "Poetry, I guess. I don't have much time to do things outside of work and school, you know? Life just gets crazy when you try to maintain a hobby, too."

"Ah," Gin said, nodding. "That makes sense."

"Mmhmm."

The two fell into silence, the sound of rain pattering around them, a calming sound. Izuru breathed in the fresh, wet smell of precipitation, and thunder clapped somewhere in the distance. Gin giggled an almost sickly disturbing giggle, and ran ahead of Izuru on the path, throwing his arms out for balance. He turned to face Izuru, his smile looking nostalgic and distant. Izuru wondered why, the subtleties of Gin's smile moving something deep within himself. "Don't ya just love the rain?" Gin asked, his voice gaining a soft and sad quality. A strong breeze blew pricking rain into their faces, and a violent shiver shook Izuru's slim body. He hadn't noticed how cold it was, for the middle of summer.

"I guess so," Izuru flinched as lighting lit up the dismally gray sky. Gin let his arms drop.

"Sure is raining hard," Gin breathed, tipping his face to the sky and allowing his hood to fall off his head. Rain soaked his dull silver hair and ran down the back of his neck, his lips closing over his smiling white teeth.

"Yeah." Izuru agreed. He must be remembering something, he thought, studying Gin's distant face.  
Gin closed his eyes all the way.

_ 'Dad, dad! Look at the rain!' Gin splayed his tiny hands on the glass of the window, looking out at the rainstorm. 'When do ya think it will stop?' The window fogged around his hands._

_Gin's father strolled up to the window, ruffling Gin's bright pewter hair with a large hand, making him laugh. 'It could rain for days,' he rumbled. Gin's father was a strapping man with brawny arms and a graying beard with smile lines that created crow's feet which splayed out from the corners of his happily squinted eyes. He, in a word, was a jolly man. 'But that'd be okay. We can all cuddle up with your mother in front of the fire when she gets home from that business trip. And when the rain does stop, we can jump in all the puddles with those brand-new red galoshes you got.' He added with a twitching wink._

_Gin threw his arms up in a victory pose, a beaming smile spreading across his cheeks. 'Awesome!'_

_Momma never came home_, Gin thought, opening his eyes to slits again with a sigh._ ...It was raining when she died._

"Gin-san?" Izuru waved a hand in front of Gin's face. "What's up? You blanked out for a little and stopped smiling."

Gin blinked. "Do you want me to smile?" His ear to ear grin returned, accompanied by a snicker.

Izuru stepped back, sputtering. "What? You're just smiling all the time and it's weird when you don't! Hey, don't look at me like that!" Izuru jabbed a finger in Gin's direction.

Gin's smile just grew somehow bigger, rain running down his cheeks in rivulets. His arms hung at his sides, rain dripping off tips of his spindly fingers. He threw his hood up again.  
"Don't we have a car to walk you to?" Gin asked sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes.

Izuru narrowed his spiteful eyes. "Right."

They carried on down the path, Izuru kicking crossly at a stray pebble. Gin's aloof personality irked him. And he was stalking him, to boot! How else would he know what color and type of car he had? Izuru chewed his lip, feeling awkward.

Even as they began to near the parking lot, the rain didn't let up as it roared down from the heavens. Izuru began to wonder how Gin could keep his musing smile without his face hurting. He must have years of practice, Izuru thought as his Toyota came into view. I wonder how many.

"Uh oh," Gin said with a laugh in his voice, bringing Izuru back down to earth. "Someone left their windows down."

Izuru's eyes came to rest on his unrolled windows, and soaked car seats. "Oh, come on," He whined, hiding his face in the palm of his hand.


	2. Not As Clear As Expected

Izuru sat on top of the towels that Gin had lent him to dry his soaked seats, his cheeks tinted crimson. He couldn't even remember why he had rolled his windows down. Thanking Gin for the towels and promising to return them the next time they met, Izuru backed out of the parking lot, watching Gin wave goodbye. He glanced at the clock on his dash, and decided it was best if he just went home and ate dinner. Tomorrow was Monday, and the start of the last week of the term.

He pulled into traffic, mindlessly driving to his house. After his parents had died, they left him their house, but since Izuru had been too young to pay for mortgage, relatives had supported him, and they rented out the top floor to renters to help pay. But now that Izuru was plenty old enough, relatives had stopped periodically checking in and staying with him. Of course he still rented out the top floor, but now it was a partial means of income. Plus, Hisagi Shuuhei, the current renter, had struck a deal with Izuru to pay for half the mortgage, as well as half of the normal rent. Izuru thought it was very nice of him.

He pulled into the driveway, and shut off the ignition. Putting up his hood, he threw open his door, and quickly shutting it behind himself, ran to the canopied bed of his truck to retrieve his school bag. He heaved it open, and reached in for his bag, which had slid almost all the way to the back. He fell into the truck's bed and onto a tool box reaching for it. "Dammit!" He shouted, his ribs throbbing. Grabbing his backpack by the strap and throwing it over his shoulder, he vaulted out of the bed of his truck, forcefully shutting the door on his canopy. He hated that truck.

Unlocking his front door, he dumped his backpack by the door mat. He peeled off his jacket, and his soggy t-shirt, tossing them by his backpack. Toeing off his shoes and socks, he stumbled into his kitchen, wondering if Shuuhei was home. He peered into the coffee pot, and picked it up, sloshing around its cold remains. He poured it into a mug, and put it in the microwave, hoping it was still good.

The microwave beeped, and Izuru pulled the steaming cup out. With one hand on the door of the microwave, he raised the cup to take a sip of the near-boiling day-old coffee. Suddenly his phone rang in his pocket. He jumped, spilling hot coffee down his bare chest. Yelping, he dropped the cup on his toe, the cup shattering on the white linoleum kitchen floor in a puddle of coffee. "Ow!" He yelled, hopping on one foot. A string of expletives followed suit.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID as he flipped it open.

"Yes, Matsumoto-san?" He growled.

"Izuru-kun!" Matsumoto exclaimed. "You sound angry right now, but I want to come over and share some sake I bought with you!"

Izuru rubbed his forehead, his chest blazing, his ribs and toe throbbing. "Can you give me an hour to shower and eat? I just got home, and your call startled me into spilling coffee down my front."

"Oh my gosh," she gushed. "Sorry! I'll see you in a hour then!"

"Matsumoto-san, I-" The line clicked off. "-just remembered I have class tomorrow." Izuru cursed the world internally, smacking his palm to his forehead.

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku bustled through Izuru's doorway, two bottles of sake in each hand. Izuru fought back the urge to bite his knuckles as she somehow produced another bottle of alcohol from somewhere inside her sweatshirt. Shuuhei lounged intimately on the couch in their "community" living room with a bag of sour cream and onion ruffle potato chips, his eyes glued to his PSP.

"Hey, Matsumoto," he said passively, crunching a chip.

"We're not... _actually_ going to drink all that tonight, are we?" Izuru asked timidly as Matsumoto yanked off her sweatshirt and threw it on an easy chair.

"I don't know," she giggled, pouring herself a cup. Izuru gulped as he was handed his own cup. _This is going to be a long night_, he thought as he grudgingly took his first drink.

"Ahh, isn't this sake great, Izuu-kun?" Matsumoto's cheeks were flushed candy apple red. She leaned forward over Izuru's kitchen table, her ample bosom spilling forward and almost out of her low-cut shirt as she reached for another bottle of sake. Izuru hiccuped, resting his heated face on the cool tabletop.

"Mmhmm," he barely vocalized. "'M about at my stoppin' poin', though..."

"Nonsssense." Matsumoto stuck her nose up in defiance as she poured Izuru another cup of sake. "Drink up!" She lifted her cup, and tossed back its contents, flicking her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. Izuru raised his eyebrows in a puppy dog fashion, and downed yet another cup of alcohol.

"You guys are gonna have horrible hangovers in the morning," Shuuhei called from the living room.

"At leaswe're having fun!" Matsumoto slurred, sloshing her sake around.

Izuru sighed. "Masmo'o-san, I begga differ. I've a poundin' headache azza righ' now."

"Liessss!" Matsumoto shot back, pounding her fist on the table.

"Owww," Izuru groaned, grabbing the sides of his head.

Shuuhei snorted, and there was a crinkle as he cuddled closer to his bag of chips. "You guys are smashed. I'm going to drive Miss Alcohol here home in a little bit."

Matsumoto gasped. "Whaaat? Shuu, you mmmeanie!" She pounded her fist on the table again, and Izuru yelped in surprise, falling backwards in his chair with a crash and knocking over his cup of sake.

Matsumoto stared at him momentarily, then burst into laughter. Izuru soon joined her, laughing at the way she laughed, because in truth, his fall had really hurt.

Shuuhei rolled his eyes. _It's going to be a long, rough night_, he thought, returning to his video game and chips.

* * *

Izuru cracked open his eyes to the dullish morning light that was filtering through the blinds of his window. He slammed a fist down on his snooze button to silence the obnoxious buzzing of his alarm clock, and rolled over, his eyes sliding shut again. A murky, stagnant headache stirred in the back of his head, a souvenir of last night's ventures. His cheeks were still burning and flushed, and his body hurt all over. And what's more is he had a philosophy class in a couple of hours.

Thankfully, his homework was finished.

He thrashed about as his alarm went off again, and he turned it off, rolling out from between his covers. Threading his fingers through his tangled blond hair and pushing it away from his face, he staggered into his bathroom, and turned the shower on. Stripping down, he stepped into the cold stream of water with a squeal as the powerful water hit him smack dab in the bruise from his toolbox in the back of his truck. He sucked in a hissing breath, bracing himself. At least the cold water had brought him some sobriety.

Izuru turned around to reach for his shampoo, and screeched as the shower made him realize the large bruise spanning across his shoulder blades from where had landed on the back of the chair when he'd toppled backwards. Flailing around and quickly snatching his shampoo, he turned back around, his dripping hair swinging and slapping his cheek. He furiously scrubbed his scalp, hoping to wake up more.

Stepping out of the freezing shower, he wrapped a towel around his lower half, and raked his hair to the side with his fingers. He wandered back to his room to get dressed, his temples pounding. Putting on the first nice clothes he found hanging in his closet (he is a very neat man), he shuffled into the kitchen, his shoulders hunched. Shuuhei was brewing his second pot of coffee, and toast was burning in the toaster that didn't toast, but scorch things. An assortment of jars of jam and jelly were arrayed on the counter, as well as a stick of butter unceremoniously stuck in a coffee cup with its buddy, the butter knife. The toast popped up, and Shuuhei fanned away the smoke with his hand to get it.

"'Morning, Kira," he said, dropping the sizzling toast on a plate. "Toast?" He asked, gesturing to the pieces of charred bread.

"Sure," Izuru shrugged. Shuuhei slathered butter on the blackened toast. "Thanks again for breakfast." Izuru received his buttered toast, which crumbled somewhat between his fingers.

"You say that every morning," Shuuhei complained, rubbing his scarred cheek. "Help yourself to toppings."

Izuru popped open a jar of marmalade, and Shuuhei topped his toast with five different flavors of jam.

* * *

Class was a drag.

Izuru took studious notes, of course, but the pounding headache nestled in the back of his brain made his notes nothing more than a garbled mess to him. Oh, how he regretted allowing Matsumoto to talk him into drinking on a Sunday night. He prayed she was going through the same torture, mindlessly doodling on the margins of his paper, his unruly yet stick-straight bangs falling in his eyes. A smiling fox stared back at him from his page, and he blinked.

"Kira," the professor said, irritated. "Kira." He repeated, tapping his foot.

"Huh?" Izuru's head whipped up, and he dropped his pencil. "Sorry, sir. What was the question?"

"Do you have any opinions or thoughts on this, Kira?" The professor indicated the quote on the board.

Izuru read it in a glance. "No, sir." He said, shaking his head.

The professor pursed his lips, looking over the tops of his glasses. "All right then," he said, smacking his lips. "Let's carry on. Kira, pay attention." Izuru's cheeks flushed pink as he picked up his pencil again.

Looking down at the fox on his paper, he realized what it reminded him of. It was a tiny, furry Ichimaru Gin. Laughing quietly to himself, he put pencil to paper and took notes, leveling a stare at the slideshow the professor had queued up. He reminded himself to wash the towels that Gin had lent him later that evening, after he'd studied. Maybe he would visit his parents tomorrow to return the towels to Gin. The slide changed, and a quote caught his eye. He wrote it down, and looped a circle around it for later reference.

Class ended with a quite literal bang. The professor had tripped over some cables from the projector and fallen, and nearly everyone class had laughed, including Izuru. After the professor had gotten up, dusted himself off and readjusted his glasses, class was dismissed, and Izuru gathered up his books, shuffling them into his backpack. He wandered out onto campus, the sky looking dismally gray and heavy with rain. It was a sad sight, in July. The muted aching in the back of his head was slowly disappearing, but his newly acquired bruises were protesting, as well as his stomach. Hisagi's burnt toast wasn't exactly settling right with him. He passed by a couple he saw around campus quite often, and they were arguing, as per usual. The orange-haired guy noogied the short girl with black hair, shouting something about being late, and the girl slammed her fist into his kidney with a harsh retort. Izuru avoided the quarreling pair, then made a sharp turn to avoid a lamp post. He passed another group of people he saw frequently, who were also arguing. The shortest, a pink-haired little girl pulled on the tallest's liberty spikes, perched on his shoulders. An effeminate man with silky, chin-length raven hair was reaching to try and retrieve the bubble gum-headed girl from the shoulder of the intense-looking tallest man, but to no avail. The final part of that odd group was the shiny bald who was standing a little farther off, but was still shouting at and or with them. Izuru hefted his bag higher up onto his shoulder, then ran straight into a trash can.

Maybe his head wasn't as clear as he'd hoped it was.


	3. Drivethru

Izuru was on drive-through duty today. Cursing the world yet again, he donned his green apron, pulling the strings around to his front to tie them, his green visor, and the headset that whoever was on "d-t" duty had to wear. He adjusted the little microphone so it wasn't poking his nostril, and stationed himself in front of the automated cash register. Things began to pick up, and the first customer pulled up to the menu.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Starbucks. How may I take your order?" Izuru said into the ridiculously close microphone, as smoothly as possible.

"Um, yes. I'll have a venti cappuccino, two sugars, very dry, and one of those pumpkin muffin thingies." A soft feminine voice spoke through the headset. Izuru could hear the gentle humming of a car in the background.

Izuru glanced at the pastry case, entering the order into the computerized cash register. "Sorry, miss, we're fresh out. Could I interest you in a blueberry muffin?"

"I'm allergic to blueberries."

"Then a lemon poppy seed?" Izuru chewed on his lip.

"That sounds good. I'll have one of those."

Izuru entered it into the register. "All right then. Your total is ¥775, and we'll have that ready for you at the next window."

"Thank you," The woman said, and her car growled.

"Venti capp, extra dry, two sugars and a poppy muffin!" Izuru called to the baristas, turning off the headset momentarily.

"Aye, aye!" One called back, pumping shots of espresso. If there was a good side to working at Starbucks, it would be the discounts on coffee and the friendly coworkers. Another customer pulled up to the menu, and Izuru repeated his line into the headset. He received the cappuccino and the bagged poppy seed muffin from a short, dark haired barista whose name was Momo or Momoe or something akin to that, and slid open the drive-through window, handing a tall, silver-haired girl her cappuccino and muffin. She handed him ¥1000, and Izuru popped open the cash drawer, retrieving her change. The receipt printed from the register, and he tore it off, handing it to the girl along with the change.

"Thank you, come again." He said with a sweet smile. The silver-haired girl returned the smile, and drove off.

* * *

Thankfully, the workday had not been as long as others had been, but it had still taken a toll on him. He hadn't been feeling quite one hundred percent after that drinking binge he and Matsumoto had gone on day before yesterday. Maybe it was the fact that he had gotten caught in the rain before hand, and now he was getting sick. He sneezed as he hung up his apron and visor on his hook, lurching forward. It seemed he was always jinxing himself. I must be cursed, he thought with a heavy sigh. He pulled his keys from his pocket, and stepped into the drizzling summer outside. He hopped in his truck, and revved it up, somewhat excited to visit Gin to return his towels.

Driving from the Starbucks to the cemetery was almost second nature to Izuru; he did so so very often. It was a calming drive, really, watching all those quiet, urban, steely gray concrete buildings pass by. Izuru blinked his esoteric blue eyes and a small, sad smile slipped onto his lips. Well, any smile on Izuru might as well be portrayed as sad. Even in sheer joy the man looked ready to weep. Sometimes it caused the people around him worry, and every time he tried to convince them he was truly happy, it only made them more wary.

Izuru pulled into the empty cemetery parking lot, and got out, thankful for the earlier drizzle having cleared up. He waved to Gin, who was on his knees pulling weeds that were growing around the base of the wrought-iron gate. Gin's head lifted, and his wide, haphazard smile broke out across his face, replacing the fleeting look of confusion. He rose off his knees, wiping his dirty hands on the back of his jeans to return the wave. "Hi, Gin-san," Izuru said, approaching. "I brought your towels back.""

"That's awful nice a ya," Gin smirked. "I wasn't exactly expecting ya to live up to your promise."

Izuru was flabbergasted. "What? I'll have you know I always do the things I say!" He exclaimed. "I'll go get them." He ran back to his truck, throwing open the canopy and reaching for the towels, pushing away yesterday's offending toolbox. Pulling out the towels, he handed the plastic grocery bag they were in to Gin, opening the black iron gate with a threatening screech.

"Thanks," Gin said, looking down. "I better run these to my house. Care to join me? I'm just up the hill a little ways." He indicated a driveway branching off of the parking lot.

Izuru shrugged. "Sure." He pressed the lock button on the key-ring remote to his truck.

"Awesome." Gin looked genuinely pleased to have Izuru accompany him.

Together they trekked up Gin's gravel driveway, Gin swinging the bag of towels back and forth. He hummed an unfamiliar tune that had a note of despondency to it, and the air felt heavy with an unsettled feeling. "So you help your dad out?" Izuru asked, attempting to start up a conversation.

Gin turned his head to Izuru, and nodded. "Yup. Support the family business, ne? But lately dad's been sick, so I've been doing the brunt of the work, ya know? Finally making something of that free time I've on my hands." Gin smiled with white teeth.

"Sorry to hear your dad's sick," Izuru steadied a gaze at the ground. "But I guess it's good you're doing something."

"Uh huh." Gin nodded satisfactorily. "I haven't been this busy in over seven years. Not since I got expelled." He barked a laugh.

"Expelled?" Izuru lifted his head, his eyebrows knit. He didn't like the way that sounded.

"Got too violent," Gin make a karate chopping motion with his free hand, and Izuru gulped. Just what kind of man was Ichimaru Gin? Izuru began to reconsider some things. "The higher-ups didn't like it. But no worries, I'm different now." Izuru hoped he was right.

"So," Izuru searched for a topic change. "Do you have any hobbies?"

Gin nodded enthusiastically. "I play a bit of piano."

"Oh, that's cool. I couldn't play an instrument to save my life," Izuru snorted. Gin laughed melodically.

"I bet you could, if your life really did depend on it," Gin winked, and patted Izuru on the back. Izuru stiffened, his shoulder muscles tensing in pain, and he sucked in a breath through his nose, trying hard not to cuss. Gin's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Bruises," Izuru explained.

"Ah," Gin fought back a snicker. "What happened? Didja get beat up?"

Izuru's cheeks turned red. "No, I fell."

"How'd ya get a bruise in the middle of your back from falling?"

"I fell backwards in a chair." The corners of Izuru's mouth turned down in embarrassment.

Gin chortled. "Smooth," he teased. They approached a smallish house, perched atop a small hill, with traditional sliding doors and windows, and tatami. Izuru's eyes lit up at the quaintness of Gin's house. Gin slid open the door to the genkan, and threw the towels inside. Izuru's gaze wandered around the modest landscaping, taking in the ripening persimmon trees, and the marigolds planted in small clusters.

"Do you like to garden?" Izuru blurted.

"Guess so," Gin said as they headed back down the hill. His smile was, as always, plastered eerily to his face. "There ain't much else to do."

"Hmm," Izuru scuffed at the gravel. The conversation died down again, and Izuru sneezed into the sleeve of his jacket.

"Bless ya," Gin giggled, waggling his eyebrows. "Catchin' a cold, are we?"

Izuru shrugged, sniffling. "Maybe,"

"You better be well by the summer fireworks festival during summer recess. It'd be a shame t'miss out on it, ne?"

"Oh!" Izuru exclaimed. He'd entirely forgotten that there was a summer fireworks festival in their area of Sapporo. Or rather, it was in the area next to theirs, but everyone in their area went because fireworks are hella cool. And summer recess started next week! "That's right." Suddenly it dawned on him. Was this Gin's strange, roundabout way of asking if Izuru would go to the festival with him? Izuru thought it would be better to take initiative. "Would you like to go?" The question was... vague. "I know it's still a a couple weeks away, but why not plan in advance?" Izuru tried to shake off the awkward.

"I dunno, I'll see." Izuru subconsciously hoped his answer would be yes. "If my dad is doing really bad, I won't go. And lately he's not been doin' good t'all."

"Oh, okay." Izuru was a bit disappointed. He looked over at Gin, and Gin wasn't smiling. His mouth drooped at the corners, his lips slightly parted to show the edges of white teeth and his eyebrows were pulled together in a neat little "v". Looking carefully and discretely, Izuru could see a glimmer of bright aqua-blue eyes peeking between squinted lids. Worry gnawed at Izuru's gut. "What's up?" He asked gingerly. "You look... distressed."

"The doctors say dad prolly won't make it through to the New Year."

Izuru was unsure how to respond. "Oh no," he muttered. He wanted to drop this conversation. Quickly. "So, um. Er, what are you doing this evening?" _Bad topic change, bad topic change!_, Izuru screamed mentally.

Gin blinked, and did a double-take glance at Izuru. Instantaneously, his broad smile materialized on his alabaster cheeks. "Weeding." He affirmed with an aloof snort.

"Well um, when you're finished with that, would you maybe like to go find some dinner?" The angel on his right shoulder slapped him. His devil applauded. Izuru unconsciously rubbed his right cheek.

"Yes," Gin was almost a little too quick to respond, Izuru noted. They reached the bottom of the hill, and Gin skipped ahead. Izuru twitched. He _skipped_? This man was a piece of work. Izuru sighed.

"I'll do some homework while you're finishing up," Izuru called, unlocking his car. He crawled in the passenger side, and unzipped his backpack, hefting his binder out. His hand felt around in the bottom of his bag for his pencil tin, and his fingernails hit it with a satisfying click. Sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, he flipped open his notebook to his final poetry assignment. He was analyzing a poem by the Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert. Izuru uncapped an orange pen, and began circling and underlining things, hunting for some undiscovered meaning. To him, the poem seemed nothing at all like a structured poem and was more akin to a musing. But none the less there was something to be uncovered in this poem, this musing about a pebble, and that is what Izuru studied poetry for. He drew an orange arrow pointing to the final stanza.

_"-Pebbles cannot be tamed_

_ to the end they will look at us_

_ with a calm and very clear eye"_

The margins of the paper soon filled up with Izuru's orange-penned drabble. His blond hair brushed the page as he leaned close. Either he was going to need reading glasses, or far-away glasses, since he nearly pressed his nose to the paper every time he wrote something by hand. He flipped to a clean sheet of lined paper to start his rough-draft analysis. Heading the paper with the title of the poem, he flipped back to his marked copy. A shadow fell over him.

"Poetry?" Gin asked into Izuru's ear, leaning low over his hunched form.

Izuru gasped in surprise, sitting up suddenly. His head became acquainted with Gin's jaw.

"Ow," Gin muttered, rubbing his chin.

"Oh my gosh," Izuru babbled. "Sorry! I wasn't paying attention." He slammed his binder shut, and recapped his orange pen. "Are you okay?" Gin dropped down to sit on the curb.

"Absolutely." Gin's smile wasn't helping to convince Izuru. "I been hit much harder, believe me."

Izuru sighed. "Are you ready to go?"

"Only if you are."

* * *

Gin sat in the passenger seat of Izuru's blue truck, his legs swinging as he stared out the window. He almost seemed like a little kid, what with the dorky grin and kicking feet. Nevermind that he was six feet tall.

Izuru jammed his key into the ignition. He cleared his throat. "So um, where do you want to go?"

"To dinner, silly!" Gin teased, sticking his tongue out.

Izuru resisted the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel. "What restaurant do you want to go to?" He specified.

"Hmm," Gin pondered, putting a slim finger to a porcelain chin. "McDonald's!" He proclaimed.

Izuru's jaw dropped. He can't be serious. "No, really. What restaurant do you want to go?"

"Your house?"

Izuru pinched the bridge of his nose. "My house isn't a restaurant." The nerve of this man, Izuru thought.

"Nnn, how about sushi then?"

Izuru slumped onto the steering wheel. "Thank you for choosing something I can agree with."

"You're welcome." Gin sat atop of his slender hands with a sneering simper. Izuru revved up his Toyota with a sigh.


	4. The Infamous Sound of Silence

Dinner was... a blast.

Izuru had never eaten with someone so lively before! As soon as they had sat down at the table, Gin was spewing stories, and he had a knack for extravagant exaggerations and flamboyant hand gestures. And at the end of the night, he had even helped Izuru pay the bill.

As they left the restaurant, cheeks tinted pink from the cup of sake they had each had, Gin snaked an arm around Izuru's shoulders. "Let's do this again sometime, ne?"

Izuru leveled his gaze on Gin's ivory face. "Yeah," He said, and yawned. "It was tons of fun."

They strolled down the sidewalk to the metered spot they'd parked in, the chill night air cooling their heated faces. Gin's phone rang from his pocket, and he pulled it out, staring at the caller ID for a moment. "Hello?" Worry strained his voice.

A moment of silence. "No." Izuru whipped his head up, and choked on his question. Gin's aqua eyes were spread wide open. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Thank you," He mumbled, and returned his phone to his pocket, his hand taking up a fist of Izuru's sweatshirt.

"Gin-san?" Izuru asked, his voice breaking. "What happened?" Gin's pale lips trembled.

"My dad- he-" Gin's voice died in his throat. He untangled his fist from Izuru's jacket, and covered his face with spidery hands. "Gone," he murmured into his palms.

"Gin?" Izuru repeated, putting a hand on his shoulder. Gin shook his head. "Gin, are you all right? Tell me what ha-"

"He committed suicide." Gin crouched down in a ball, his slender frame shaking.

"He-" Izuru echoed. "Oh no, Gin, I-" He swallowed his words, kneeling beside the quivering Gin. "Is there anything I can do?" Gin shook his head again. He drew in a staggered breath, and still curled in on himself, rubbed his face with his wet palms. He lifted his blotchy face.

His freakish smile was back, ghoulishly soldered to his milky face. It made Izuru want to retch. "Let's go home, ne?" He said, rising. Izuru followed, anxiety chewing at his gut as he unlocked his truck.

The sun was setting as Izuru pulled onto the motorway. His thoughts were flying faster than the cars were driving, and they were threatening to crash into each other. It was so unexpected, and Izuru didn't even know what Gin's father's ailment had been. And the way Gin had handled it... disturbed Izuru. He pulled into the cemetery parking lot, and shut off his truck. Silence settled around them, the cicadas chirping obnoxiously outside. "Gin-" Izuru began.

"Would ya mind staying with me tonight?"

Izuru blushed. "I- um, no."

"Good. I'm... I'm gonna need someone here with me." Gin stared out the window at the rows of headstones. "I don't know what I'd do."

Izuru looked down. "I understand."

"Thank you." Gin opened the door and got out, slamming it forcefully behind himself. Izuru stared after him. It's hard. Izuru thought. Losing a parent. I don't blame him for being upset. He got out and locked his Toyota, running to catch up to Gin. As Izuru shouldered up to Gin, Gin threw a cutting glance at him in spite of his wide grin.

"I understand more than you might think," Izuru uttered, very softly.

"Oh yeah?" Gin remarked, folding his arms.

"Yeah. The reason we met is because I lost my parents. I don't know what your dad was suffering from, or what caused him to... off himself. But I know that it's you who's suffering now. And I get that feeling. My parents, they... they died suddenly. It was a hit-and-run, and I didn't know until the next day." Izuru sniffled. "I barely know you. I don't know what your situation is like, or if you have any relatives, or even if your mother is still alive. But sometimes- sometimes I think maybe- Oh, I don't know. I'm babbling, aren't I? I-"

Gin pulled him into a tight hug.

"Gin?"

"Ya stopped usin' honorifics." He whispered into Izuru's hair.

"Is that bad?" Izuru's voice was muffled by Gin's jacket.

"No," He breathed.

"Oh. Okay.

More silence.

"Don't you think this is weird?" Izuru asked, still buried in Gin's arms.

"What is?"

"Two men... hugging each other. Rather intimately, don't you think?"

"Nah."

Izuru tried to pull back a little.

"I like ya, an' that's all that matters ta me," Gin said.

"Is that so?" Gin was smooshing Izuru's face into his chest.

Gin nuzzled the top of Izuru's head. Izuru stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He pushed away, placing his hands square on Gin's chest, and Gin's skinny arms fell to his sides. "Yeah." Gin stated with a frown.

"Oh."

They started walking to Gin's house again, this time with some distance between each other. Silence was like smog between them, and you might've needed a machete to get through it. Gin slid open the genkan, and stepped inside, taking off his shoes, Izuru following suit. The sun had gone down by now, and it was dark inside his house. Izuru tripped stepping onto the tatami. Gin caught him by the the upper arm, and righted him, then let his fingers slip away. _What's happening with Gin?_, Izuru wondered, watching Gin shuffle to the oshiire and bring out two futons. Gin lay out the futon in an area by doors that opened to the outside. There was a small stream running by, gurgling and whispering quietly. Izuru stood shock still, wanting to help somehow as Gin brought back blankets and pillows. _Shit, I made things awkward_. The futon lay side by side. Gin sat on the futon that appeared to be his, and patted the one next to him, encouraging Izuru to come and sit. Izuru sat.

"He had heart cancer."

"Huh?" Izuru stared stupidly at Gin.

"My dad. Thought I'd tell ya. An' my momma- she died in a plane crash, comin' home from a business trip."

"Oh." Izuru stared at the bubbling stream that now glistened in the moonlight. "Thanks for telling me."

"'S nothing."

Silence seemed to be a popular ordeal for the two.

Gin stretched out on his futon, staring despondently at the ceiling, eyes wide open. Izuru watched him, as discretely as possible. He was a handsome man, really. He was strong, and muscular -as Izuru had noticed after being crushed in a bear-hug- and tall. But then again, Izuru was slightly shorter than average. And Gin had the most stunning blue eyes, like cut aqua marine set into his skull. It was really too bad that he was squinting all the time. When Gin looked at Izuru, it felt like his soul would melt into a pool of butter- or maybe mercury. Yeah, mercury.

"Do ya wanna borrow something to sleep in?" Gin aksed.

"Yeah." Izuru admitted.

"Okay." Gin pushed himself up, and wandered into another part of the house, returning with a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Izuru set them beside his futon, and Gin dropped down again. "I dunno what I'm gonna do now. There ain't that much money in the bank, so any sort of grandiose funeral is outta the question. 'M prolly gonna get evicted soon, 'cause dad was the one who paid the mortgage. Hmm..." Gin trailed off.

"You don't have to tell me all of this, Gin."

"I know, I just need someone to talk to. Keep myself under control."

"I understand."

* * *

The rest of the night went on much like that.

At some point they had fallen asleep. Izuru was tucked neatly under his covers, and Gin was sprawled out, blankets and pillow tossed aside. The cicadas chirped late into the night, close to the sleeping pair. Gin rolled about in his sleep, muttering and twisting off of his futon and closer to Izuru.

Which made waking up most definitely awkward.

Izuru's eyes cracked open when the break of dawn peeked over the horizon, and he gasped silently at Gin's arm draped over his side. His face turned the color of a fire engine.

"Gin, what are you doing?" Izuru asked the drowsy Gin, who was laying behind himself.

"I dunno, what are you doing?" Gin slurred in a sleepy tone.

Izuru mentally slapped himself. "I'm trying to get up."

"No yer not." Izuru was pulled closer, and he blushed harder. "We don' have ta get up, dad's dead."

"Gin, you-"

"Shh," Gin hushed Izuru. "I like ya where ya are."

Izuru scrambled to flip over under Gin's arm. "Gin, you must be delirious or something, because-" Their lips brushed. Gin was so much closer and awake than expected. Izuru squeaked and covered his mouth with his hands, his face reddening to a deeper red.

"Hmm, your idea is so much better than mine." Gin stared him down with wide, soul-melting ocean eyes, a devious grin gracing his lips as he pried away Izuru's hands.

"What? That wasn't an idea, it was an acciden-" A kiss.

It was chaste and tasted sweet.

"What the hell, Gin?" Izuru shouted. Gin flinched from the noise in his face.

"Ne, it was your idea." Gin's lips curled in a nasty smile.

"I told you it was an accident!" Izuru wouldn't ever tell Gin that he was secretly so very pleased. Ever.

"So ain't you gonna push me away like all the rest of them did?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody else I've ever known has pushed me away when I did something wrong. You're the first friend I had in a long time."

"Friends don't..." Izuru strained to say it- "kiss each other, Gin."

"So what?"

"So what? It's weird, that's what!"

"Hmm."

Izuru slapped his palm to his forehead. The man was clueless. "I won't push you away."

"Awesome." Gin pressed their foreheads together.

"But," Izuru continued, putting a finger to Gin's smiling lips. "I'm not your lover. Or any other sort of synonym or equivalent of that. I'm not even close."

"Okay."

More of that oh-so popular silence.

"I'm serious." Izuru poked Gin's lips.

"Yessir." Gin continued his painful-looking smile. "Are ya gonna make me let go of ya soon?"

"I'm considering it."


	5. Matsuri

"I'm home," Izuru called to the lounging Shuuhei as he crept in the door.

"What took you so long?" Shuuhei asked, his laptop perched on his knees, an array of papers surrounding his bespectacled self. He looked over the tops of his black reading glasses.

"I was staying at a friend's." Izuru automatically gravitated towards the refrigerator.

"A friend's? That's rare."

"I guess so." Izuru grabbed a yogurt.

"We missed you in Advanced Trig. today," he made an exasperated noise and crumpled up a piece of paper, lobbing it against the opposite wall. It was probably the start of an assignment for his Journalism class.

Izuru snorted. "Missed me? I'm practically invisible in that class." He pulled off the yogurt's lid, and licked off the yogurt that was stuck to it.

"Yeah, but we're studying that one topic you know all about." He typed frantically.

"Oh, I see." Izuru flopped into an easy chair. _I like ya, an' that's all that matters ta me_. He tried to dispel Gin's voice from his head. Gin was certainly one-of-a-kind, and he stuck with Izuru. Izuru knew he would be having nightmares -or fantasies- of Gin for a long time to come.

They had lain together for a long time in the morning, just side by side, eyes fixated on the ceiling. At one point, Gin had begun to cry, quietly, and Izuru reached out to touch his shoulder. He now knew what Gin had needed someone else with him for. 'I understand.' Izuru had said. But in his mind, Izuru thought that maybe it wasn't the right thing to say. Maybe he needed to apologize.

Izuru touched the back of the cold spoon to his lips. He wouldn't ever tell Gin that he was secretly so very pleased about the sweet kiss. Truth was, Izuru didn't even know. That he was so very pleased, that is. He was just shaken. What were they getting into?

He'd been afraid to leave Gin alone. Gin looked so unsettled behind his careless smile, like he was about to break. Izuru didn't want to think about what the seemingly unstable Gin might try again, so he'd left without a backwards glance.

* * *

It was another week. August was blazing, and summer recess had begun with fervor and merriment. The summer fireworks festival was now just a little more than a week away, and Izuru decided to visit Gin at the cemetery. He pulled into his usual parking spot, and headed straight for Gin's quaint house.

"Gin?" He called, poking his head inside the genkan.

"Come in," Gin's familiar, Kyoto-accented voice responded from somewhere inside the house.

Izuru kicked off his sneakers, and stumbled onto the tatami again, following the sound of Gin's voice to the place where they'd slept a week ago.

Izuru's futon had been put away, but Gin's was still out, the bedding strewn about carelessly. Gin himself was sitting on the porch, leaning his left shoulder on a post. He looked… defeated. Izuru sat next to him.

"Hi," he said.

"Come back for more?"

"Yeah, I- What? No!" Izuru's eyes narrowed in slight disgust. He made a displeased face. "I came to see how you're doing." He studied Gin's smile through slitted eyes.

"I'm fine." Gin replied, almost curtly.

"Okay," Izuru said, his eyes wandering around the house. The fist-sized hole through a shoji paper door had a different story to tell about Gin's well-being. Izuru ignored it. "Do you still want to go the the fireworks festival?"

"Only if ya wear a yukata," Gin twitched a wink. Mischief tainted his expression.

Izuru frowned. "I don't own a yukata."

"You can borrow one a' mine," Gin offered with a smug grin. His hands lay limp in his lap, palms up, elegant fingers curled.

"Uh, okay." Izuru's eyes flicked around suspiciously.

"Awesome."

* * *

Izuru blushed as Gin pushed his hair back from his face. "Are ya sure ya can see through that uni-bang ya got goin' there?"

"Yes," Izuru huffed, allowing his hair to fall back into his eyes.

They were standing in the genkan, bedecked in cotton yukata. Gin's was snow white with a light blue sash, and an uchiwa fan patterned with sakura petals was stuck in his obi by the handle, pressing against the small of his back. Izuru's borrowed yukata was navy blue with white abstract lines criss-crossing each other as they ran down the front and back in parallel lines, one starting on each shoulder, keeping within a three-inch width. His sash was yellow, and he teetered on a pair of lacquered geta. Gin smiled as he tugged on Izuru's obi, pulling it tighter around his hips.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Accentuatin' your little waist." Gin laughed.

"I'm not a girl!" Izuru complained.

"Maybe not, but ya got the hips a' one."

"Touché." Izuru reddened color of roses.

Gin put on his similar lacquered geta, and expertly clomped out the door with a giggle. Izuru followed, stumbling.

A sleek silver convertible was waiting for them at the base of the steep driveway. Gin waved to the man behind the wheel, and the brown-haired guy returned the wave, gesturing to the backseat. Gin opened the door for Izuru, who crawled in. Sliding in next to Izuru, fan in hand, Gin introduced his friends. "Izuru, this is Aizen Sousuke and Tousen Kaname. Sousuke, Kaname, this is Kira Izuru."

"Nice to meet you," Izuru said with a small wave.

"So this is the Izuru we've been hearing so much about, Gin?" The man called Aizen turned his spectacled, gleaming brown eyes on Izuru's face with a kind smile. "He's cute."

Izuru blushed.

"He sounds blond," the one with ebony skin called Tousen mused, keeping his eyes vaguely trained on something the distance.

"He is!" Gin exclaimed, playfully socking Izuru on the shoulder. "He's got straight blond hair that hangs over th' left side of his face, and in the back it splits inta two little taily things."

_Taily things?_, Izuru thought self-consciously. He instinctively raked his fingers through his hair.

"I see," Tousen murmured.

Aizen stepped on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward very suddenly as he roared out of the parking lot. Izuru braced himself against the cool leather seat, buckling his seat belt, his cornsilk blond hair whipping in the car's added wind. Gin smiled happily, white teeth glinting, one arm stuck out the pointlessly rolled down window, the sleeve of his white yukata flapping in the rush of air._ This Aizen guy is a maniac!,_ Izuru thought as Aizen veered into traffic. Tousen remained very stoic, his hands folded in his lap, the many tiny braids of his hair moving in the wind. Futuristic looking translucent milky white glasses sat on his nose, and an orange scarf was stylishly draped around his neck. Izuru's hair slapped him across his face, and his eyes began to water. He hoped they wouldn't crash.  
Aizen swerved into a parking spot, and cut the engine, grinning. Izuru heaved a relieved sigh. Aizen's driving was horrifying.

Gin hopped nimbly out of the convertible, his geta clacking on the cement. The sun was blazing in the sky, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of Izuru's neck as he got out. The festivities had already begun, stalls open with games and food and things to sell. Gin snatched Izuru's arm, pulling him along.

"C'mere, Izuru, I wanna go play some games!"

"But we just got here," Izuru protested, Gin's fingers wrapped snugly around his skinny wrist. "Why don't we go see the kendo competition? Or the sumo competition? And what about dinner? You said we'd get okonomiyaki." Gin stopped suddenly, and Izuru ran face-first into his back. "Ow." He rubbed his nose.

"Oh yeah," Gin said, putting a finger to his chin. "Ya still wanna do that?"

"Of course." Gin still had Izuru's wrist snared in his fingers. "We have ample time. And I'm hungry."

"Oh, okay." He pulled Izuru in a different direction. Izuru heaved a sigh, clacking along. Delicious scents of festival food wafted around them in the air, and Izuru's mouth watered. They slowed to a stop in front of an okonomiyaki booth, twenty or so okonomiyaki frying on the large griddle. "Two, please!" Gin told the man behind the grill, holding up two fingers. The gruff-looking man nodded, and skillfully flipped over the okonomiyaki with the spatulas in his hands. He flipped two onto paper plates, and Gin dropped his hold on Izuru's wrist to retrieve his coin pouch from inside the fold of his yukata. Izuru happily took the plates from the man, and Gin paid.

"Thank you, come again." The man said, returning to his blazing cooking range.

"Gin, I was going to pay for mine!" Izuru pouted.

"But I wanted ta treat ya t'somethin', after ya stayed with me the night my dad died." He snatched two pairs of paper-sheathed wooden chopsticks. "Let's go find somewhere ta sit."  
Izuru plodded after Gin, who was nearly dancing through the crowd with their chopsticks. Gin settled for a curb, plopping down and motioning for Izuru to follow suit. The sound of a taiko drumming performance could be heard, and the crowd surged around them. Izuru handed Gin his okonomiyaki, and broke apart his chopsticks in time with the drumming.

It was good okonomiyaki. Gin ate his almost greedily, but Izuru savored his very slowly. Izuru wondered how Gin could wear a pristine white yukata and not spill okonomiyaki sauce down the front. He shrugged.

Izuru soon became very absorbed in the festival. Both he and Gin wore lip-splitting smiles, laughing, and tottered about on lacquered geta with plastic cups of cheap beer and fish-shaped taiyaki. The sun had set, but it was still warm out, and now that it was getting dark enough, people began to gather at the water front, where the fireworks were going to be set off. Gin pulled Izuru in yet another direction by his wrist. Izuru followed willingly, inebriated. Taiko drums pounded steadily in the distance, and lanterns lit up the aisles of booths. Tiny pinpricks of light called stars dotted the inky blue-black canvas of sky, and Izuru swayed. Gin caught him before he capsized over the curb, laughing.

"Ya don't take alcohol well, do ya?" Gin asked, breathing hot on his neck.

Izuru shook his head sadly, peeling Gin's hand off his waist. His face was flushed cherry blossom pink, and his dreamy blue eyes were half closed. "Nope," he mouthed, hiccuping.

Gin patted him on the back, and they found a low stone wall to sit on. The crowd hushed, and the taiko drums ceased. Everyone turned their faces to the sky in anticipation.

The first firework shot into the sky with a muted hiss, and the breath left Izuru's lips, if only for a moment. It burst against the dark sky, a halo of crimson sparks. A thousand gasps were uttered, and three more followed the first's lead, and splayed their firey colors on the stars like hands. Cracks and booms resonated through the park, and the initial silence had erupted into cheers and applause. Izuru smiled drowsily at the heavens.

Gin gazed at Izuru out of the corner of his squinted eye, marvelling. He was handsome, no doubt, blond and blued eyed and looking almost Scandinavian... Gin liked him. But he knew Izuru did not feel the same in return, and he hoped to clout that.

Gin placed his fisted hand on Izuru's shoulder, his uchiwa fan brushing blond hair. Fireworks continued to smatter the sky with colorful light displays, blooms and coronas of fire. Izuru fluctuated with tipsiness, leaning on Gin's arm for support.

"Izuru?" Gin whispered.

"Hm?" Izuru blinked dilated blue eyes.

"Would ya turn your head over here and lift your chin a wee bit?" Izuru did as told.

A kiss.

This time, it was lustful and tasted beery, Gin's strategically placed fan preventing passing audience.

Izuru pulled away, but not too far away, his heart pounding in the back of his throat. His half-lidded eyes were wary as he gave Gin a careful once-over. "What are you trying to get at, Gin?" Izuru asked slowly, cautiously.

"I dunno, what're you interpretin' it as?" Gin's smile was wanton and leering.

"I'm not sure. But you keep kissing me-"

"Only once before!"

Izuru ignored him. "I always thought we were just friends... is that..." He left his unspoken question hanging.

They were in such close proximity, they were breathing on each other's cheeks.

"Depends," Gin said with a shrug after several firework-filled moments. "Did ya like it?"

Izuru sighed, glancing sadly out at showering explosion of bright white in the sky. "I don't know." He closed his eyes momentarily.

A heartbeat of dead silence.

"I'm willing ta try again," Gin offered.

Izuru opened his eyes to stare Gin square in the smiling face. He reached quaking fingers out to touch Gin's kitten-soft silver hair.

"Don't believe anything I say or do tonight," Izuru slurred. "It isn't valid."

Gin nodded, leaning into Izuru's hand. A shiver ran through Izuru's core and before he could think too hard on it, Izuru lurched forward and lips met deftly. As if on some mocking cue, a fit of fireworks shot into the sky for the grand finale and blazed their explosive colors into the air.

While below, Gin and Izuru shared their third- no, fourth, now, as they went at it again- kiss. Gin pulled away first and arched a slim pewter eyebrow with a grin. Izuru's fingers had tangled themselves in Gin's hair on their own accord, much to Izuru's shock. They were unwilling to break free. Izuru hoped it wasn't hurting Gin.

"I feel suddenly very sober," Izuru murmured, casting his eyes down.

"Does that make the things ya do and say valid now?" Gin asked with a sheepish smirk.

"No. Not even close." Izuru's lower lip jutted out.

Gin sighed. "Ya wanna go home, then? Invalidity is somethin' I can't tolerate."

Izuru nodded sleepily.

"Can ya let go a my hair?"

Izuru blinked. "I already tried. My hand won't let go."

"Hmm."

Gin put his fan in his obi, against his back, and stood up, sweeping Izuru into his arms, bridal style. Izuru blushed deeply, willing his stubborn fingers to let go, wishing to be out of this situation. He closed his eyes as Gin trotted out the park gates happily. At some point his fingers had come untangled, and his hand fell to rest in his lap, but Gin wasn't too willing to put him down. Izuru guessed they were at Aizen's car when Gin's gliding steps ceased. He didn't dare peek his eye open, lest someone be watching.

He heard Aizen's deep belly laugh. "Did you get him good, Gin?" Aizen asked.

"Guess ya could say that," Gin's voice buzzed in his chest against Izuru's ear. Izuru shut his eyes tighter, and Gin snickered.

"Is he..." Aizen began.

"Naw, he's just embarrassed." Gin held Izuru closer, to watch him turn even redder.

"I can hear you," Izuru grumbled, hiding his face in Gin's chest.

There was a moment of silence, and then a chorus of laughter.

"It would be much appreciated if you would put me down now. I do have legs." Izuru grudgingly cracked an eye open to stare at Gin's porcelain chin.

"I don't wanna."

Izuru let out a long breath. "Please?" He gazed at Gin with blurry, saucer-wide cerulean eyes.

Gin stared back. After a long moment: "Well, there's no denyin' that look," and he put Izuru's feet on the ground. Izuru pitched on his geta, and Gin hesitated to let go of him entirely.

"I'm fine," Izuru said, wavering from alcohol and other... various... influences.

Gin gave a concerned look.

* * *

Izuru fell asleep on Gin's lap during the longish ride home in Aizen's slick convertible, the cool night air brushing his cheeks. His mind was a flurry of thoughts. Three, no- four times he'd kissed Gin. Was this... was this really the direction he was swinging? Izuru thought hard about Gin for the first time. Handsome, funny, unschooled Gin. What was it that Izuru saw in Gin? He fell asleep thinking Gin...  
Gin gazed down at the sleeping Izuru, his slack lips and feathery eyelashes. He pushed Izuru's silky blond hair out of his face, fingers trailing along his skinny cheekbones. Gin sighed.

"What are you thinking, Gin?" Aizen asked softly, warm brown eyes reflecting in the rear-view mirror.

"Isn't he pretty?" Gin glanced up at Aizen's reflection with happy squinted eyes.

"Yes," Aizen agreed. He returned his eyes to the dark road. "Gin, have you become bored with me?" Aizen was very direct.

Gin opened his watery blue eyes. "Sousuke..." His voice died.

"Think he's the one?"

Izuru stirred. "I hope so," Gin breathed as he let his hand come to rest on Izuru's splaying collarbone.


	6. Izuru Blushed

Gin and Aizen exchanged a long glance, then stared at the sleeping Izuru in Gin's arms. They stood on Izuru's porch, the dim porch light casting strange shadows.

"The door's locked, isn't it." Aizen pointed out. He folded his arms.

Gin sighed. "Yeah."

Aizen smacked his lips. "Great. Do we just leave him on the doorstep or something? Like in that movie, Harry Porter... or something."

Gin blinked.

"Yeah, I thought not." Aizen stared at the doorknob. "Doesn't he have his keys with him?"

"Naw, he left them inside when I came to pick 'im up."

Aizen smacked his palm to his forehead. "Should we just take him home with us?"

"That's gonna be awkward in the mornin'."

"Agreed."

Silence.

"I'll just take 'im home," Gin said finally. He turned around and headed back to Aizen's car.

Aizen shrugged. "Okay."

* * *

Izuru awoke, and blinked at the ceiling.

_Gin's house?_

He rubbed his eyes, blinking again. A warm body stirred beside him on the narrow futon. _OH DEAR GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE-_ he thought, his stomach free falling. Gin propped himself up on his elbows with a cheerful sneer.

"Mornin' to ya," he said with a chipper voice.

"What am I doing here?" Izuru asked, covering his eyes with his forearm.

"Spendin' the night,"

"Why?"

"Because your house was locked when we went to drop ya off, an' your keys were inside."

Izuru blushed. "Gin, did we... _do_ anything last night?"

"Depends on what ya define as doing." Izuru's mind flashed dirty thoughts, and he chewed his lip uneasily. He lifted his arm for a moment to glance at what he was wearing. It was not a navy blue yukata. It was the flannel pajama bottoms he'd worn before.

"How did I change?"

Gin didn't answer, and flopped onto his back. Izuru's stomach began a gymnastics routine. _Shit_, he thought.

Gin rolled back onto his side, and rested his cheek on Izuru's bare belly, his finger tracing a line back and forth on Izuru's side. Izuru twitched from Gin's tickling touch. "Please don't be mad at me." Gin's breath ghosted across Izuru's skin. "I promise I didn't try anythin' with ya last night 'tween the sheets."

Izuru wasn't very reassured. "Promise?"

"Promise," Gin echoed.

Izuru sighed.

"How're ya feelin'?" Gin asked. His finger traced loops. "Y'were pretty embarrassed last night." _Last night...?_ Then it crashed over Izuru in a wave of memory that four cups of beer had made blurry. They'd- Izuru didn't want to think yet another something like that. "O'course, nothing ya did or said last night was valid, so I guess it don't matter."

"We- Oh, _shit_, that actually happened?" Izuru turned rouge.

"Yup! Would ya like a refresher?"

"Would you stop shamelessly promoting yourself?"

"Nope," Gin said with a keen smile. Izuru's gut knotted. "So tell me, how did ya like it?"

Izuru gulped. "I don't have any strong opinions on it."

"Would ya do it again?"

Izuru chose not to answer, and let his arm fall off his burning face, which he turned away from Gin. He'd do it again. He really would. He just didn't want to admit to it. Especially not to Gin  
"Whatcha lookin' at?" Gin moved so he could see Izuru's face through his squinted eyes. "Aww, you're blushing! So would ya do it again? Hmm?" A beat of silence. "Ya would, wouldn't ya!" Gin giggled.

"Shut up," Izuru groused.

Gin did some creative scrambling, swinging his leg over Izuru's midsection, so he was straddling his narrow hips quite awkwardly. A bead of sweat rolled down Izuru's cheek. "Well?" Gin said, leaning very close to Izuru's face and splaying his long ivory fingers on Izuru's nude chest. "How 'bout it?"

"How about what?" Izuru squeaked, quivering.

"Me 'n you."

"Together?" His throat ran dry, and his blood cold, all the heat rushing to his already heated face. He gulped again.

Gin drummed his fingers. "Why not?"

Izuru turned his face back to look straight at Gin's jesting smile. He took the opportunity, grabbing Gin by the wrist and rolling, so that it was Izuru who was sitting on top of Gin. Gin grinned wider at Izuru's sudden audacity. Izuru pinned Gin's wrists to the floor. "Look, Gin." He said, his hair falling in his face. "I'm not entirely comfortable with this whole notion of being with another male quite yet, so, um-"_ Blush_. "-Do you think we could take it slowly?"

Gin twisted his wrists. "Is that a yes?"

Izuru stared at Gin's chest. "For the most part."

Gin simpered. "Do I get a kiss now?" Izuru freed a hand to slap Gin swiftly on the cheek. "I'll take that as a no." Gin's twiggy wrist was pinned down again.

"Gin, Kira-kun, are you ready for breakfast yet?" Aizen called, strolling into the room. He paused, and both Izuru _and_ Gin blushed. "I think I'm interrupting something. I'll come back later." He turned on his heel and left hurriedly.

Izuru looked Gin in the slitted eyes. "Aizen-san is here?"

"Well, um... Ya see..." Gin was slapped again. "Ow."

Izuru rolled off Gin. "What time is it?" He asked to the ceiling.

Gin shrugged. "I dunno."

"11:36!" Aizen called from somewhere else.

Izuru's heart sank. "He can hear us?" He whispered to Gin.

"I guess so."

Izuru curled up in a ball on his side, his dignity shriveling and dying.

"Now, don't be so hard on yourself," Gin crooned, wrapping an arm securely around Izuru's waist. His breath was hot on the back of Izuru's neck. He drew a fine line on Izuru's neck with his nose. Izuru stiffened. "An' lighten up. This is what lovers do." Izuru thought back to when he told Gin that he wasn't his lover._ I guess that's been canceled out now._ He let the muscles in his shoulders go loose. "That's it," Gin told Izuru in a susurrant voice. Izuru closed his eyes, breathing shallowly, as to not jostle them. Peace washed over him.

Aizen watched silently from the other room. He folded his arms, sighing._ Looks like Gin won't be needing me anymore, now that he's found Kira-kun._ He took off his glasses, folding them up and putting them in his shirt pocket, and pushed back his hair. A lock flopped on his nose, and he headed back to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. _I wish them both luck._

* * *

Izuru knocked on his front door. He gulped, feeling the awkward as Gin and Aizen drove off in Aizen's growling silver convertible.

The doorknob rattled, and Shuuhei opened the door slowly, cup of black coffee in hand. "Izuru?" He asked.

"Hey," Izuru squeaked.

"Whose clothes are those? You're blushing like crazy, too." He stepped aside so Izuru could come in.

Izuru laughed nervously. "I am? Wow. Um, I had to borrow clothes from a... friend." _Liar. Liar liar pants on fire_. He tucked his hair behind his left ear. "After the festival."

"Whoa." Shuuhei almost dropped his coffee. "Did you just... tuck your hair? I can't believe it- the other side of your face actually exists. It isn't just a myth!" Izuru sat down in his favorite chair in the living room, pulling his knees up under his chin and the sleeves of Gin's gray sweatshirt over his hands with a cheesy grin. Shuuhei forcefully set his cup down on the kitchen table. "This is breaking news."

Izuru shrugged. There was a warm glow inside him. He smelled Gin's sweatshirt, which smelled like Old Spice- a combination of maybe nutmeg and ginger and possibly cloves. It was sharp, refreshing and somewhat intoxicating. Izuru liked it.

"What's on your ear?" Shuuhei asked, tipping his head to the side.

"My ear?" Izuru repeated, his fingers flying to his left ear. "Oh! My ear cuff? I guess people don't see it all that often, since my hair covers it a lot of the time." He touched the wide silver circle threaded through the cartilage above his ear lobe.

"It's cool," Shuuhei said, taking a long drink of his coffee.

Izuru looked down, his eyelashes brushing his cheek. "Thanks,"

"No problem. So is it an actual piercing? Or just one of those funky clip-ons?" Shuuhei dropped onto the couch.

"It's real." Izuru tugged on the loop of silver.

"Huh. I never knew you had that."

"Most people don't."

"Huh," Shuuhei echoed.

Izuru rested his chin on his knee.

Shuuhei turned on the television to the news. It was documenting last night's festival, and Izuru's ears perked up, and he watched the screen intently. Footage of the fireworks began to roll, and Izuru's eyes were pulled to the bottom left hand corner. They'd caught Gin and Izuru on film. Fortunately the cameras were so far away that you couldn't... see anything out of the ordinary, but Izuru noticed and turned the color of a beet. They actually looked rather natural doing what it was they were doing, Gin's hand on Izuru's shoulder, and Izuru's hand knotted in Gin's incredibly soft hair. He turtled into Gin's sweatshirt, pulling the collar up to his nose.

"Whoa, what's the intense blush for?" Shuuhei pulled off his reading glasses.

"What?" Izuru squawked. "Oh, um, I'm just- just remembering something." The image on the screen changed, and Izuru let out a tiny relieved breath.

"What kind of something?" Shuuhei pressed.

"Nothing i-important." Izuru stammered.

"That's kind of hard to believe when your face is the color of a stop sign."

Izuru let his hair become untucked. Shuuhei cackled, and let it drop.

_This is the most embarrassed I've ever been_, Izuru thought, resting his forehead on his knees.


	7. From Seven Years Ago

There was a tap on the bedroom window, late at night.

Izuru sat up at his desk, his ears open. _Tap tap tap_. He swiveled around in his office chair, putting down his pen looking at the window. He gasped lightly at the pale hand splayed on the glass, then let out a breath at the vague outline of silver hair. He trudged over and slid open the window in a fluid motion, standing on top of his bed.

"Gin, what the hell are you doing here?" He asked, gripping the window sill.

"I came ta say hi," Gin explained with his signature smile.

Izuru flushed. "You could have just called me."

"'S not the same as seein' your pretty face."

"You flatter me," Izuru drawled in a sarcastic voice. "But it's late. And I was going to go visit tomorrow."

"But it's been so long since I seen ya last."

Izuru looked at his watch. "It's only been ten hours."

"That's a long time." Gin stared at him, unsmiling.

_I guess it _is _a long time. _Izuru felt kind of bad. "Then um, come in, I guess." He jumped onto the floor.

"Yosh!" Gin vaulted nimbly through the window and landed lightly on Izuru's bed. He flopped down. "Ahh, a real bed! I haven't slept on a real bed since me 'n dad moved up here from Kyoto!"

Izuru sat down next to him. "So you _are _from Kyoto. I was wondering where you got the accent from."

"Yeah. We moved when I was sixteen, after I got expelled."

"Oh, I see." Izuru fell silent.

Gin rustled behind Izuru, and lanky ivory arms were twined around Izuru's skinny body. "You're still wearin' the sweatshirt I lent ya," Gin giggled, burying his face in the crook of Izuru's neck. Izuru allowed himself to smile.

"It's comfortable,"

"Keep it." Gin purred.

"Really?"

"Why not?"

"...Cool!"

Gin grazed the sensitive skin just below Izuru's ear with his teeth. Izuru shivered, and Gin nibbled on Izuru's ear.

He spat out Izuru's ear. "You have a robotic ear!" Gin exclaimed.

"A roboti- Oh, my ear cuff! That's the second time today."

Gin pulled on the silver loop with his cold spidery fingers. "Other people are allowed to nibble yer ear?"

"Huh? No! I had my hair tucked and my renter who rents the upstairs noticed it after you dropped me off."

"There's a renter?" Izuru could feel Gin smile against his neck. "That makes things fun."

"Fun?"

"Means when we do things, we also have ta try not ta wake the roomie."

"D- do things?" Izuru choked.

Gin laid the palm of his hand on the flat of Izuru's stomach. "Mmhmm,"

Izuru's heart picked up. _Is this what he came to do? The pervert. _Warmth rushed to Izuru's collar, and Gin wormed his fingers under Izuru's shirt. He traced delicate cirlces on Izuru's hip. Izuru twitched madly, biting his lower lip, trying impossibly hard not to laugh.

"What's this?" Gin asked, and twisted around with Izuru in his arms, somehow ending up so that they were laying side by side. "Are ya ticklish?" Gin prodded Izuru's tender sides. Izuru squirmed, squealing. "Y'are!" Izuru flopped about as Gin ran his fingers up and down his sides. Izuru's eyes began to water from laughter.

"Nng, Gin! That tickles!" Izuru was breathless, his hair mussed up. Gin somehow remained very neat, and sprawled his lean body on top of Izuru's chortling frame. Izuru let out a long breath.

"I'll hafta remember you're ticklish, in the future." Gin said into Izuru's bedding with a laugh.

"You're no fair," Izuru sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

Gin slid off Izuru's torso and cuddled into his side. "All's fair in love and war," Gin quoted, pulling Izuru closer.

"Shut up," Izuru groused.

A cool breeze blew in from the still open window as they let a moment of silence pass.

"Do you like me, Izuru?" Gin asked in a low voice.

"Well, yeah." It was rather nice to have a warm body next to his.

Gin heaved a sigh. "That's good."

Izuru looked at the top of Gin's head. "Why are you asking?"

"Just need to know." Gin muttered, twining his fingers with Izuru's. Izuru reveled in the feeling of having his hand held for the first time by _Gin_.

Izuru looked up at the ceiling with a blush. He let his eyes slide shut.

* * *

The next couple of days were very interesting, to Izuru. School started back up, and things began to get crazy again. Izuru began his class on Ancient Japanese Poetry, which was taught by a regal man with slick long black hair and sharp pewter eyes. And rumor around campus was he was the older brother of a girl that Izuru saw around campus a lot. The short black haired one with the orange haired accomplice.

It was a hard class. Professor Kuchiki was a tough grader.

Work was... income. Not much more. Gin became very persistent, but Izuru could assume that was because he didn't have school, and Izuru was gone for most of the day in class, and then gone for longer at work. It seemed the boy really, _really _liked Izuru. They hung out with Aizen quite often, although Tousen was rather infrequent. Izuru thought Gin and Aizen's relationship was an odd one, and they acted as if they were old lovers.

Izuru was jealous.

The way Aizen touched Gin sometimes... made Izuru want to bear his teeth and hiss at him. Gin was his now. And Aizen was intruding. But Izuru allowed it, because Gin seemed to enjoy having Aizen around.

Gin wanted to meet the renter. Izuru was curled up in his chair in the living room, typing an assignment for Professor Kuchiki's class when he talked to Shuuhei.

"Hisagi?" He asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the laptop screen.

"Hmm?" Shuuhei kept his eyes on his laptop too.

"What would you think if I were g-gay?"

Shuuhei stopped typing. "Come again?"

"What would you think if I were gay?" Izuru's tongue seemed suddenly very heavy.

"Well, um, I guess that's fine, and your decision, as long as it's not me you're um, pursuing. Because I'm straight. As a ruler." Shuuhei picked up typing again.

"Oh no, I already- already have a um, a- a b-boyfriend." Izuru stammered, hunching lower over the keyboard, blushing.

"T-that's good to hear," Shuuhei shared in Izuru's stammering.

"He'd like to meet you, so I'm going to invite him over for dinner tomorrow." Izuru read over what he'd just shakingly typed.

Shuuhei audibly gulped. "Sounds good."

"This doesn't make things awkward for you, does it? It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?" Izuru looked over the top of his screen at Shuuhei.

"Not at all. It's just a little sudden, that's all." Shuuhei was blushing.

"Okay. Thanks for understanding, Hisagi. Those were... those were hard words to say." Izuru rubbed his face.

"That's understandable, dude. No worries."

Izuru let out a sigh. "Thank you."

* * *

"Augh, what are you doing? Put me down!" Muffled voices. "I'm not your bride, you ass!"

Shuuhei turned off the television, his ears perking up. A giggle.

"How're you going to open the door?" The door creaked open. "Oh, okay, I s- ow. You just hit my head on the doorframe."

"Whoops."

"Will you put me down now?" Izuru's voice was clearer now. Shuuhei craned his neck, but they were still in the front hall, and he couldn't see Izuru's new... boyfriend. "Thank you." Shuuhei assumed Izuru had been put down. "I'm home, Hisagi." Izuru called. "There's someone I want you to meet." Izuru scuttled into the living room. "Um, Hisagi, meet Ichimaru Gin. Gin, Hisagi."

Shuuhei stood up to meet the silver haired man Izuru had in tow. His blood ran cold. _Him! _"Kira, who the fuck is this?" Shuuhei pointed accusatorily at Gin, who dropped his smile.

Izuru's eyes went wide. "He's Gin, m-my-"

"I don't want him in the house."

"Why?" Izuru looked confused.

Shuuhei pointed to his face. "These scars didn't make themselves."

Izuru frowned. "What are you saying? Gin?" Izuru looked up at Gin, who was smiling widely and maliciously.

"How've you been, Shuuhei?" Gin's voice was low and cutting, and his hand tightened around Izuru's. His other hand balled into a fist.

"Get him out," Shuuhei hissed.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? How's your face feeling?"

"Gin?" Izuru squeaked. "What's going on?"

"Bastard," Shuuhei was seething.

"Now, now, let's not call such mean names. Surely after seven years y've stopped holdin' a grudge against me, ne?"

"How can I forgive you when every morning when I wake up, I look in the mirror and I'm reminded of how you screwed up my face?" Shuuhei stomped his foot in a childish manner.

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Izuru looked back and forth between Gin and Shuuhei.

"Let's sit down," Gin offered, inviting himself in the living room. "Me and Shuuhei will explain everythin'." Gin claimed the couch so he wouldn't have to let go of Izuru's hand, forcing Shuuhei into an easy chair.

Shuuhei grumbled, reluctant.

"So it was seven years ago, right before I got expelled."

"The reason you got expelled was because of what you did to me, jackass. How about you let me do the explaining?" Shuuhei crossed his arms sternly.

"Have it your way," Gin said with a flick of his hand.

Izuru began to sweat. Shuuhei stared at the floor. "In truth, it was I who began the fight."

"Damn skippy," Gin interjected.

"Shut the hell up," Shuuhei snapped, locking his dark gray eyes on Gin's face. "It wasn't your place to be criticizing who I was friends with. Anyway, there was a guy I really looked up to. Muguruma Kensei. And Ichimaru's crowd could be called Muguruma's crowd's enemy, really. It was kind of an us versus them thing. And one day, Ichimaru comes around with that dopey grin of his, taunting and teasing me about how I was always hanging around Muguruma, and asking if we were... romantically involved. That really got to me, and I threw the first punch." Gin cleared his throat, and Izuru looked up at him with his wide blue eyes. "Before I knew it, Ichimaru had scratched me down the cheek and I was bleeding everywhere."

"Ne, you got me too." Gin dropped Izuru's hand to pull up the sleeve on his left arm. A short, jagged scar twisted on Gin's wrist. Izuru traced it with his finger, leaning on Gin, shocked into silence. He hadn't know.

"No one gives a damn," Shuuhei carped.

"I give a damn!" Izuru exclaimed, whipping his head up from examining Gin's scar. "I wish I'd known sooner! I wouldn't have brought Gin!"

"Too late now, I guess." Shuuhei stood up. "The door is over there."

"What?" Izuru narrowed his eyes. "That's not fair at all, Hisagi. You said you were okay with this."

"Oh no, I am. It's absolutely fine. But I'm not okay with Ichimaru. I mean, are you sure you trust that fox?" Shuuhei demanded. "Because I tell you, he's one slippery bastard. He tells a lot of lies."

Gin spoke up. "I've changed, ya know." He said, standing up. "I've realized I can't become anything, because a what I did to ya. That's how it is. I can't go to school or nothin', because they won't take me as a student." Izuru could have sworn Gin was tearing up. "I know I treated ya with a little hostility earlier, but I been through some difficult things recently."

"Oh? Like what...?" Shuuhei folded his arms again.

"My dad committed suicide." Gin's breath caught, and Izuru stood up, gripping his sleeve. "He jumped out a ninth story window at the hospital, sufferin' from heart cancer. 'Zuru was there when the hospital phoned. That in itself was hard, seein' 'Zuru worry fer me, and knowin' that I ain't got no parents left." Gin wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling. "And I ain't got no money to pay fer a funeral, 'cause I can't get a job 'cause I don't got an education."

Izuru looked at Shuuhei with his saucer eyes. _Come on, Hisagi, he's begging for mercy._

_The bastard's probably putting on a show, _Shuuhei thought, snorting. "I'm outta here. Kira, I'm going to visit Matsumoto. Have fun dining with your new appendage."

"Hisagi-" Shuuhei grabbed a pack of cigarettes and slammed out the door. "Well, that was one big screw up." Izuru flopped onto the couch. "I'm sorry if that opened up any old wounds."

"Nah," Gin flopped onto the couch next to Izuru, lacing their fingers together again. Izuru's breath caught just a little bit, as it always did. "But I'm curious- was Shuuhei goin' to go visit Matsumoto Rangiku?"

"Well, um, yeah. You know her?"

Gin laughed. "We were best friends in grade school."

"Really! It's a small world, isn't it?"

"It really is." Gin snuggled into Izuru's neck. "And no worries about Shuuhei- I'd be mad too."

"All right," Izuru sighed, feeling Gin breathe on his collarbone. "But do you think it would be best if you didn't come over for a little bit? I think Hisagi may need some time to cool down. Because he grabbed cigarettes before he left, and he doesn't smoke unless he's truly pissed off."

"Guess that's fine," Gin mumbled. "I mean, ya can always come over to my house."

"True," Izuru sighed.

_This sucks_, Izuru thought.


	8. I'll Tell You My History

Shuuhei slammed his car door, and slumped against the window, running his fingers along his triplet scars. What was Izuru thinking? He jammed the key in the ignition of his hatchback Honda, and started it up with a sigh. _Kensei was my everything. I mean, he was my step brother. _Shuuhei shoved the car into reverse, the engine and gears protesting. _I hate that Ichimaru didn't know that. _He swerved violently onto the street, and he could see, from the corner of his eye, the reflection of Izuru's listless, devestated face in the window. His heart became heavy, and he hurt for Izuru. The kid hadn't known.

But- what Gin had said about what happened to him, Shuuhei began to wonder about it. Was it true? The way Gin's voice had caught was terrifyingly realistic. Shuuhei slammed his fist on the steering wheel during a red light. The bastard- he himself was gay. How could he accuse Shuuhei of being gay? Maybe his hurt ran deep.

Shuuhei pulled into the parking lot at Matsumoto's apartment complex. He stuffed the carton of cigarettes he'd grabbed into the pocket of his leather vest, and reached over to the glove box for a lighter. Nearly kicking the door open and closed, Shuuhei tromped up to apartment ten and pounded on the door.

Matsumoto drowsily opened the door, dressed in a light summer dress. "Shuuhei," she exclaimed. "You look pissed off." She leaned on the door frame, tossing her strawberry hair over her shoulder.

"I am," Shuuhei seethed, folding his arms.

"What happened?" Matsumoto copied his arm gesture.

"Guess who Kira brought home."

"Who?" Matsumoto tipped her head to the side.

"The bastard who fucked up my face." Shuuhei turned to lean his back on the wall. He slid into a sitting position, and pulled out a cigarette.

"No!" Matsumoto gasped. She sat in the door frame as Shuuhei lit his cigarette with a puff of smoke.

"Yeah, and the guy's acting all coy and slick for Kira. It was so obvious on his face." Shuuhei hugged his knees.

"So what's their situation? They sound close."

"Kira came out of the closet." Shuuhei rubbed his face.

"...I see. So are they like... together?"

"Yeah." Shuuhei looked down. "I honestly don't know what Kira sees in the guy."

"Who is it?"

"The guy that Kira brought home? Ichimaru Gin." Shuuhei took a pull on his cigarette.

"No _way_."

"What?"

"He was my best friend in grade school."

"...You're shitting me."

"No!" Matsumoto laughed lightly. "He was a real sincere guy. Then his mom died, and he grew a little further away from me almost every day. Then I moved up here to Sapporo before junior high, and I lost contact with him. It'd be fun to meet up with him again."

Shuuhei snorted. "Not to me. I hate the guy."

"That's your opinion."

"Whatever."

Matsumoto sighed. "Tell me something, Shuuhei. What went down when you guys met again?" She looked at him with huge, icy blue eyes.

"Well, Kira brought him in and introduced me to him, and um, you know how I am. I got pissed. I told Kira to get him out of the house, but Kira just looked at me with those huge, bewildered blue eyes that I swear can melt your insides, and Ichimaru got that creepy smile of his. Kira told me to explain what happened, so I did. And when I got to the part where Ichimaru scratches my face up, Ichimaru pulls up his sleeve to show off a scar from a scratch I'd put on him while we were fighting. And of course Kira goes all googly-eyed. So I tell Ichimaru to leave, but Kira has a problem with that. Then Ichimaru goes into this weird little fit or rant thing, and tells how he's changed, and how he's been through shit lately, because apparently his dad commited suicide jumping out the ninth floor window of a hospital while suffering from heart cancer." Shuuhei stubbed out his cigarette. "And that's where I left."

"His dad died too? How depressing." Matsumoto put her cheek on her knee.

"To be honest, I think he was feeding me and Kira a lie." _But his sob sounded so real_.

"I dunno, Shuuhei. Maybe you ought to give the guy a chance."

"I don't know if I want to." Matsumoto slapped his arm. "Ow! Fine, fine, I won't be mean to him or Kira."

"That's a start." Matsumoto stood up. "You want something to drink? Sake? Beer?"

"Beer." Shuuhei stretched his legs out. "Please."

* * *

Izuru blushed as Gin crept up and placed a kiss on his lips as he turned away from the window. He reached his fingers out to touch Gin's shirtfront, fingers twisting fabric into them, pulling Gin closer. Gin's lips contorted into a wide sneer. They stumbled across the living room in a tangle of legs, Izuru going forward, Gin backwards as they attempted not to break the kiss. Dropping onto the couch, their teeth clacked. Izuru pulled away and rubbed his lips. "Ow,"

Gin scrunched up his nose. "You're cute, ya know that?"

"Weren't you about to cry a moment ago?" Izuru pointed out, cuddling into Gin's chest.

"Was," Gin huffed. "Then I decided I didn't wanna cry in front a everyone. 'Sides, you already seen me cry enough."

"I guess that's true." Izuru smelled Gin's shoulder, and took a long pause. "Gin, I want you to tell me something. It's been bugging me for a while, now."

"What is it?"

"Were you ever _with _Aizen-san? Like how we are?"

Gin let out a very long sigh, and Izuru closed his eyes. "Yes."

Izuru's eyes flew open.

"We were together. We became jus' friends again when you 'n me got together." Gin pulled his fingers through Izuru's hair. _So it was recent_, Izuru thought. "But we go back, ya know? We've been friends since I was in junior high. He was even in the fight Shuuhei and I had. Shuuhei made the fight sound like jus' a little spat, but it was actually pretty big. Kensei 'imself was actually fighting, too. I was friends with Kaname back then as well, but he didn't fight none 'cause he can't see. But my friends Grimmjow, Ulquiorra and Nnoitora helped out with the fight, and some people on Shuuhei's side, I think their names were Shinji an' Hiyori an' Mashiro or somethin' came and fought with them. I was the only one who got expelled, though, 'cause I did the most damage." Izuru closed his eyes again. "And when me and dad moved up here to Sapporo, Sousuke and Kaname moved, too. But Sousuke, he had a reason, ya know? Since he's four years older than me, he was going to college by then."

"Oh."

"I hope ya don't mind too much."

"Not teribbly." _I'm not sure I like Aizen-san very much anymore_.

* * *

Shuuhei flopped onto Matsumoto's couch, and Matsumoto stretched out on the floor. "You not quite so pissed anymore, Shuuhei?" She asked, yawning and looking at the clock on the wall.

"Yeah." He buried his face in a pink throw pillow.

"That's good." She flexed her toes. "I have a friend coming over soon, but I don't know if he'll actually come. He's kind of a grumpy pants."

"He can just ignore me." Shuuhei mumbled into the pillow. "I am now a throw pillow."

Matsumoto giggled. "Would you like another beer, Mr. Throw Pillow?"

"...Maybe."

Matsumoto padded into the kitchen on bare feet to get one. Shuuhei sighed, and there was a knock on the door. "I think your friend is here," Shuuhei called.

"Come in!" Matsumoto shouted.

The door creaked open, and from what Shuuhei could see with his face in a pillow, the guy was incredibly short with striking turquoise eyes, spikey silvery-white hair and a permanent scowl. He was actually rather scary-looking. "Matsumoto, who is this on your couch?"

"It's my new throw pillow. You can ignore it, though... it's kind of having a bad day." Matsumoto came out of the kitchen and handed Shuuhei his beer.

"Thanks," Shuuhei grumbled.

"I see." The kid said. "Is the throw pillow going to move so I can sit on the couch?"

Shuuhei stared at him with one dark eye. The shrimp was aggravating him.

"Probably not," Matsumoto shrugged. "Let's play video games, 'Shirou."

_Shirou?_ Shuuhei thought, wishing he had a straw for his beer. _How fitting. _


	9. Pilgrimage

Izuru kept his eyes trained very steadily on the road. Gin leaned on the passenger side door, his own squinted eyes focused on the passing landscaping. From the corner of his eye, Izuru could see the reflection of Gin's flashing smile in the window. Sometimes Gin's smile disconcerted Izuru, even now, after how close they'd become. Izuru let out a tiny sigh.

He thought back to when they first met, how he'd literally tripped on Gin, and his initial shock at seeing Gin's unusual features. The coin-bright silver of his hair, his spreading, maliciously gleeful sneer that pushed his thick-lashed aqua eyes into tiny slits. Izuru turned onto the freeway.

"Nee, Izuru?" Gin asked slowly, rubbing his palms together.

"Hmm?" Izuru turned his face to Gin but didn't take his eyes from the lines on the road.

"I'm going to go to Kyoto next weekend."

"Oh, okay." Izuru gave a tiny nod.

Gin lowered his voice. "Will ya come with me?"

"All the way to Kyoto?" Izuru's eyebrows knit.

"Yeah."

"I guess so, if you'd like me to."

"Yosh. We'll fly to Tokyo then take the Shinkansen down to Kyoto."

"You're paying for tickets?"

"Well, yeah."

"If you're paying for tickets, I'll pay for everything else." He flexed his fingers.

"Izuru, ya don't have ta do that."

"It's fine, Gin. When my parents died they left me an incredible sum of money, not to mention I get ¥100,000 from Hisagi every month, plus my pay from working at Starbucks."

"Ya work at Starbucks?"

Izuru flushed. "As a matter of fact, I do." He strangled the steering wheel as he followed a bend in the freeway.

"That's really cool." Gin turned his smile at Izuru.

Izuru's blush deepened. "Thanks." He turned into the cemetery parking lot and into a spot. The keys jangled as he pulled them out of the ignition. "So um, you'll call me about this some other time?"

"Yup," Gin leaned over to kiss Izuru impishly on the nose with a tiny "_chu!_". Izuru let himself a quick smile and heated cheeks, and they both got out and slammed their doors in unison. Gin waved. "See ya," he called casually, strolling to his driveway.

"Bye," Izuru called back with a weak wave. He turned to go visit his parents' grave for the first time in a week or two, stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

He wandered in the open gate, but was stopped by Gin's yelling.

"Wait! I don't have yer number," Gin ran to Izuru, flailing his arms.

"Oh!" Izuru rummaged in his pockets and came up with his favorite orange pen. Gin held out his arm with his sleeve pulled up, and Izuru wrote his number over Gin's twisted, faded scar with a muffled snicker. He drew a tiny heart next to Gin's wrist.

Gin's cheeks pinkened.

* * *

Izuru dropped to his knees in front of his parents grave as he had done so many times before, and hung his head to pray. _Father, Mother, it's been too long._ He lit the stick of incense with the lighter in his pocket kept specifically for the task. _I've been so busy, I haven't had time to visit. _Breathing deep, he put his hands on his knees, his shoulders slouching. _I met a man I really like. His name is Gin. And I know you wouldn't approve of this at all, Father, but- _he turned his head to the side. _-I'm with him. As in romantically. _Izuru shut his eyes very tight and bit his lower lip. _I know this isn't what you would have expected from me. And he's done things that aren't the greatest. _A sigh escaped from between Izuru's pouting lips. His fingernails scraped the denim on his knees with a scritching sound. _But I guess I can make it worthwhile._

The greenery rustled in the breeze. Izuru reached out with his skinny fingers to touch the names of his parents engraved into the slab of granite. "I miss you," he whispered.

_'I'm home,' Izuru called, setting his bookbag down by the door. _

_'Izuru, did you bring your marks?'_

_'Yeah,' Izuru huffed, flipping his shaggy bangs to the left. The white envelope was already in his hands._

_'Oh, good.' His mother set down the pot she was washing and dried off her hands. "May I see them?" Izuru held out the envelope. She took it from his hand, and sat down at the kitchen table. Her blue eyes flicked over the grades on the sheet. 'You're doing so well in all your classes, Izuru. Especially in your writing class.' She said proudly._

_Izuru sat in the chair next to his mother. 'I really enjoy it.'_

_'Oh? Are you going to be a writer?'_

_'Yes,' Izuru said dreamily._

_'Ridiculous.' His father scoffed from the living room._

_'Hmm?' His mother set down the report card._

_'Be a writer, bah. Be an engineer. Or a mathmetician. The world needs more mathmeticians.'_

_'But I don't want to be an engineer or a mathmetician.' Izuru set his elbows on the table, and his chin in his hands._

_'Doesn't matter what you want.' His father grumbled._

_'Kagekiyo,' his mother scolded. 'Our son can be whatever he likes.'_

_'How will he make a living?'  
'Easy,' Izuru exclaimed. 'I get published. Sell my books. And if that doesn't work I can always teach.'_

_'Izuru, the world doesn't need another fuzzy-headed writer type who does nothing but waste paper. Do something practical for a living.'_

_'Kagekiyo! That's enough. He said he can always teach. Isn't that practical enough for you? Imagine it. Izuru as a teacher. That would be a good job for him.'_

_'What would he teach, Shizuka?'_

_'Poetry,' Izuru frowned._

_'Poetry!' His father echoed. 'And produce more fuzzy-headed writers?'_

_'Kagekiyo, you're becoming insulting. Knock it off. I mean, why are we even arguing about this? Izuru has plenty of time to think about careers. He's only fifteen.'_

_Izuru looked down. There was a rustle as his father shook out his newspaper. 'Suit yourself.' He growled. _

_ You didn't approve of much of anything, did you, Father? _Izuru gave a light laugh, retracting his fingers from the headstone. The last of the incense fell, smiting the wafting smoke. _You'd skin me for what I'm doing with Gin. _He stood up. ..._I guess I didn't have as much to say as I thought I did. I'm sorry. _He promptly turned on his heel and padded away, cicadas chirping loudly and obnoxiously in his ears.  
The cemetery was rather peaceful at night. There was a light breeze that rustled the green leaves of the trees, the coolish night air nipping barely at Izuru's cheeks. If he were to look up, he would see the inky blanket of sky embroidered with silver flickering stars and a skinny waning crescent moon tipped on its side like a crooked smile. Izuru turned his enigmatic eyes to the grinning moon. His fair eyebrows gathered together in his signature look of sad apathy, his pinkening lips set closed firmly. Although he had told Gin to take it slow with him, things were falling together rather quickly. They spent almost every day together. Sometimes with Aizen, sometimes not. Izuru thought about his classes, wondering if his grades were slipping at all due to a certain shiny silver distraction. (Izuru had always been rather attracted to shiny things.) He kicked a pebble as he always did, dragging his heels through the gravel.

He shut the creaky iron gate behind himself with a wince. Some of the black paint flaked off on his fingers, and he unlocked his truck from a distance with the key-ring remote. His headlights shone in his eyes, and he blinked, throwing up his arm as a visor.

* * *

Izuru zipped his suitcase shut. He was actually kind of excited to go to Kyoto with Gin, because he'd never been, and now he was getting to go with someone who'd lived there for half their life. It was like getting his own personal tour guide. With a smug smile, he lifted his suitcase off his bed, and carried it to the door. Giving his room a swift once-over with his eyes, he shut the door behind himself, and rolled his suitcase down the hall. Perfectly on cue, a horn honked from the driveway. _That would be Aizen-san, _Izuru thought. _It's nice of him to drive Gin and I to the airport. _

Izuru slid into the familiar leather back seat, and Gin grinned at him, curled in on himself against the door, his socked feet on the seat. _He's pretty flexible_, Izuru thought, shutting the door and buckling his seat belt. Aizen started his convertible, and screeched out of Izuru's driveway, slamming everyone back into their seats. Izuru threw out his arms to brace himself against the seats, his head whipping back. Luckily there was no whiplash.

The drive to the airport was long, windy and terrifying, as per normal. It never ceased to amaze Izuru how Aizen never got any tickets or crashed. Even racing right by police cars. Izuru couldn't wait for the ninety minute flight from Sapporo to Tokyo, and the long silence and complimentary peanuts. Maybe he would take a nap on Gin's shoulder.

Aizen jerked into a parking spot, and Izuru almost fell out of the car, so happy to be out of the maniac's vehicle. They entered through the long row of automatic sliding glass doors in the front of the airport, rolling their bags behind them. The airport was hustling and bustling with many different kinds of people. Business men, flight attendants, tourists, students, you name it, they were there. Izuru breathed deep. Ah, airport scent. Was that soft pretzels he smelled? His stomach grumbled.

"Gin, how long do we have until our flight departs?"

Izuru caught a glimmer of aqua eyes. Gin tipped his chin to the side. "An hour. Why?"

"I want a pretzel."

Gin snickered. Izuru kicked his ankle, causing him to stumble. "Okay, okay, we'll go get ya a pretzel!"

Aizen smirked. "You two are so cute together."

Izuru blushed, embarrassed. "Ya think so, Sousuke?" Gin asked, craning his neck to look at Aizen, who was walking a few steps behind them. Aizen dipped his head in a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. Gin giggled, and pecked Izuru on the cheek.

Izuru turned deeply red. "Gin, we're in public."

Gin only sneered wider. Izuru placed slightly more distance between himself and Gin, his hand flying embarrassedly to the cheek Gin had kissed.

They found the gate where their flight would be departing from after checking in their suitcases and stumbling through security without a hitch, flopping into the long row of chairs. Aizen sat down with them, as it had been prearranged that he would stay with them until their flight left. "You still want a pretzel, 'Zuru?" Gin asked, and Izuru noticed people had begun to make wide arcs around them. Was it because of how Gin looked? Izuru frowned slightly, and nodded yes to Gin's question. "Let's go, then!" Gin nimbly hopped up. "Sousuke, can ya watch our things?" Aizen nodded slowly, with a soft smile. Gin snatched Izuru's hand, much to Izuru's dismay, and dragged him off to the food court.

Standing in the line for the pretzel booth, Gin grudgingly let go of Izuru's hand, submitting to his frantic attempts to pull his hand from Gin's. Gin looked over the tops of everybody's heads, and then directly down at the head of the girl in front of him. He nudged Izuru with his elbow. "'Zuru, look. She's blond, just like you." Gin whispered with a grin. He tapped the girl on the shoulder. "'Scuse me miss, but ya have really pretty hair."

The short girl turned around in shock, jumping slightly. She blushed at Gin's comment. "Thank you," she murmured, running her fingers through her layered, chin-length wavy blond hair that was pulled up into a partial pony tail. "Your hair is pretty, too!" She chirped, beaming. Her face was round and dusted liberally with freckles, and her skin was olive-toned and smooth. She was a good two heads shorter than Gin, and very foreign-looking, complete with an awkward, slight Kansai but still American-sounding accent.

It was Gin's turn to blush. "Why thank you," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "I guess it ain't every day ya come across a group of silver- and gold-headed people. My boyfriend Izuru has blond hair, too!" Gin looped an arm around Izuru's shoulders.

"B-boyfriend?" Izuru stammered, his heart pounding in his throat. This was the first time Gin had introduced Izuru as his "boyfriend".

"That _is _what ya are, right?" Gin looked honestly confused. "I'd be concerned if ya were otherwise."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Ohh, your hair is so straight!" The girl standing before them in line gushed. "I wish I had straight hair like yours!" She stood on tiptoes to pet Izuru's head. Izuru's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned down. "And it's soft, too. I'm so jealous." She retracted her hand suddenly with a blush. "Sorry! I hope ya don't mind me petting your boyfriend's head, Silver-san."

"Not a problem. And ya almost got my name right!"

"I did?" The girl brightened up.

"Yup! I'm Gin." Gin smiled his signature stomach-flipping smile.

"How fitting!" The girl's unfocused gray eyes sparkled. "I'm Chie."

_Don't I get a say in whether or not my head is petted? _Izuru wondered, hunching his shoulders as Gin bent down to allow Chie to pet his unusual silver hair. _Man, all I wanted was a pretzel._ Gin and Chie laughed.

"Excuse me, sirs, miss, I can help whoever's next in line." The teen behind the counter called. Gin gestured for Chie to go ahead of he and Izuru.

* * *

Gin waved goodbye to Aizen, and he and Izuru boarded the smallish plane. They found their seats, glancing from their tickets to the rows of seats with confused expressions, and back again. Izuru fought the urge to do a little victory dance when they found their seats, and discovered they were next to a window. Izuru took the window seat, and Gin took the seat next to him, the one beside the aisle, pulling his knees up under his chin. The other passengers made as wide an arc around Gin as they possibly could, given the narrow aisle. Izuru deflated against the wall of the plane. They didn't have to make such a big fuss about it.

The flight attendants came and secured the bag compartments, patting here and there to make everything fit. There were three flight attendants, a man with long, wavy brown hair that was pulled back into a pony tail and a scruffy beard, a man with long white hair and kind brown eyes, and a woman with a soft smile and her dark brown hair woven into a braid that hung down her front, pulled from the back on either side of her slender neck. It was surely a hairstyle that Izuru had never seen before. The captain came on the intercom, and the flight attendants went through the routine safety demonstration to his narration, pulling on their model seat belts and oxygen masks. Izuru buckled his seat belt, and patted Gin's knee, suggesting he do the same. He grudgingly put his feet down, and buckled his seat belt.

Izuru slid open the window shade to watch as the plane lifted off of the ground. He turned to Gin to say, "Look!" but stopped when he noticed Gin was already nodding off, and drifting in Izuru's direction. Izuru sighed and let him rest his head on his shoulder.

At some point in the flight, Izuru had recieved his package of complimentary peanuts, and was sated. Gin continued to sleep on his shoulder, his thin lips slack. It was definitely a change to see him not smiling. Izuru smiled softly. He stared out the tiny window at the blindingly white blanket of clouds they were flying above, and blinked. He was on his way to Kyoto, indeed. Gin stirred slightly, and Izuru touched his knee gently. The plane was silent as death, and peaceful. Izuru crunched happily on his peanuts, which were the highlight of this flight, to him.

The captain came over the intercom, and announced to everybody to please buckle their seat belts, as the plane was about to land. Izuru smirked, as neither he nor Gin had unbuckled their seatbelts in the first place. Ninety minutes had gone much faster than anticipated. Watching out the window as the plane grounded, Izuru poked Gin awake.

"Gin," he whispered in Gin's ear. "Get up, we're landing."

Gin grumbled sleepily and drearily sat up, rubbing his squinted eyes. "We here already?"

"Yeah."

People began to stand up, opening the bag compartments to retrieve their carry-ons and purses, the flight attendants helping out with white gloved hands. Izuru stood up and stretched, and pulled Gin up out of his seat. Worming his way around the swaying, sleepy Gin and popping open the bag compartment just above their heads, Izuru snagged their bags. They stumbled out of the smallish plane, their legs slightly numb from the hour and a half of sitting still.

Tokyo was huge, and Izuru had never been before. He stared up at the sky-high buildings all around them, his blue eyes wide and glazed over. Gin seemed completely unfazed by it all, focused on finding a map and a taxi. If Izuru squinted really hard, he could see the red and white pinnacle of the Tokyo Tower, poking just above the gray cityscape. He let out a tiny pleased giggle. Gin flagged down a taxi, his silver hair glinting in the bright sunlight. Izuru fanned himself with his hand, already sweating and soggy from the late summer Tokyo humidity. It was always so moderate up in Sapporo, and he was unused to the heat. Gin seemed unfazed by the weather, too. _Geez, nothing can amaze this guy_, Izuru thought, climbing into the taxi cab alongside Gin.

The taxi driver looked back at the duo to ask where he was headed, then jumped at the sight of them. "Where to?" He stammered.

"The Shinkansen station, please." Gin said sweetly, his steely smile stretching towards his ears.

The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

"So where you headed?" The gruff man behind the wheel asked, sometime in the middle of the drive.

"My hometown," Gin sighed, staring out the window with a grin.

"Where's that?"

"Kyoto." Gin replied, flashing a glance at Izuru. "Family business, ya know?"

"Oh, are you two brothers?"

Gin put his elbow on the window sill. "Nope!"

"We're far from it." Izuru added with a smirk. Would Gin tell the blatant truth?

"I see." The driver grunted, pulling up to the very busy and nearly bottle-necked front of the Shinkansen station. "Good luck on your trip, boys." Gin handed the driver the fare.

"Will do, sir." Izuru said with a smile as they climbed out.

They stared at the busy station, unsure where to begin. "To the ticket booth?" Gin suggested, raising his thin silver eyebrows.

Izuru nodded, gulping and bracing himself for the imminent zoo.


	10. We Came To Tell

Gin and Izuru approached the gate of the Kyoto cemetery with hesitation. Squinted eyes were trained solemnly on the ground, and shockingly still, spidery, spectral hands gripped a wooden box tightly. His fathers' ashes. Izuru sobered himself and prepared for long silences, letting Gin have space and the lead as they plodded into the eerily sunny cemetery. Gin had Izuru's sympathy, as Izuru was all too familiar with the crestfallen feeling that creeps up your neck as you stand or kneel before a grave, and the heaviness it places on your back as you hang your head in any number of these feelings; regret, sorrow, defeat, shame, pain, mourning, despair... Gin's chin dipped down to touch his collar, and Izuru was almost glad he couldn't see the expression on Gin's face. Not only was this visit tearing up memories of Gin's father, but also of Gin's mother.

Gin sank to his knees before his mother's, and now his father's grave, unceremoniously and deftly setting the wooden box of ashes beside the headstone. Izuru stood many yards away, studying the names on the other headstones, allowing Gin to be alone. A moment or three later, Izuru swiveled his head to gaze with blue eyes at Gin and the gently wafting incense. Gin's lips moved in a silent prayer.

Izuru felt a strange softness towards him. He imagined if this is what Gin had felt when he had watched Izuru pray for his parents at a distance, in the very beginning, before they had ever spoken to each other. To Gin, was Izuru untouchable? Pure as the driven snow? Gin looked innocent, too innocent, kneeling before his parents. Izuru turned slowly on his heel and crept to a bench, sitting down. His skin crawled with uncomfortable heat.

"There's nothin' more I can do, Izuru."

Izuru's head snapped up. Gin sniffled into his sleeve as he drug it across his face. He was facing Izuru, the distance between them still the same. "Are you finished?"

Gin nodded. His mouth was a thin, pallid line. Somehow the corners still twitched into a tiny, frigid smile.

They joined hands as they left the cemetery, Gin sniffling into his sleeve again as he rubbed his misty eyes. "Will you be okay?" Izuru asked.

Gin let himself one last dreadfully heavy sigh. He lifted his head, gulped, and beamed at Izuru. Izuru's breath caught, and he wanted to pull his hand from Gin's. "You bet." Gin remarked.

"How can you always smile like that?" Izuru demanded, then blushed and whipped his head to the side, embarrassed at his sudden outburst. "I mean-"

"Is there something wrong with my smile?" Somehow Gin kept up his grin, but his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"No, no, I- I mean, it's really pretty and I like it, but sometimes it's intimidating."

"Oh, I get it." Gin looked the opposite direction, and there was the long silence that Izuru had been anticipating. "So, do you want me to smile less often?"

"No! Not at all!" Izuru held up his free hand defensively. "I think your smile really adds to your character! But we're at a cemetery, and your dad died, and I..." Izuru trailed off, his blush creeping back onto his cheeks. "I think sometimes it creeps other people out."

"I see."

Izuru carefully inspected the pavers under his feet, and Gin squeezed his hand tightly.

"Would ya like it if I were a little less creepy?"

"I don't know, Gin, you are who you are, I guess, and I-" Gin caught Izuru in a closed-mouthed kiss, his lean arm snaking around Izuru's waist, pulling him closer. Izuru gasped when they pulled apart. "Gin, we're in public."

"Ya think I'd care?" He twined his free fingers with Izuru's."'Sides, it's not like anybody's watching."

Izuru considered it. "True," he said after a while. "I suppose we _are_ alone." Just as he said that, a smallish boy with straight black hair parted down the middle, worried blue eyes and a cowering, hunched posture brushed past them, his shoulder ghosting along Izuru's elbow. He seemed not to mind, but Izuru bristled.

"Lighten up," Gin whispered. "Ya only live once, Izuru. Now, shall we go sight-seeing?"

* * *

Gin had suggested they go to a bar after dinner.

Izuru was beginning to wonder why he had consented to it.

Where was he, anyway? The ceiling he was staring at didn't look like the one in the hotel room they were staying in. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking with blurred vision to his left. There was the edge of a foreign bed with crisp white sheets, and a socked foot connected to a long leg that came from somewhere down below. Izuru peered over the edge of the bed.

Looked like Gin had gotten slammed, too. He lay on his back on the floor, the one socked foot propped on the bed, the other kicked aside, and his long arms were thrown helter and skelter. Izuru reached down to poke his face. "Gin?" He mumbled. Gin's foot twitched. "Gin?" Izuru repeated. "Gi-"

"Whaaat." Gin croaked.

"Where are we?"

"Hell if I should know." Gin didn't budge.

"What time is it?"

Gin threw out an arm to point at the alarm clock on the blond wood bedside table. Eleven o'clock. Izuru's head throbbed. He hung one arm over the side of the bed to brush Gin's face. Gin caught his fingers and pressed them to his cheek.

"Hey, fags." A sneering voice remarked. "You awake now?"

Gin mumbled something incoherent.

"That's good to hear." A lean figure cast a shadow over Gin and Izuru. "Get up, ya oaf. We got some catching up to do."

"Shh..." Gin began. "Shinji? Hirako?" Gin barely cracked open one eye. "Well, shit. There's a face I ain't seen in years." A man with facial expressions that showed excessive upper teeth leaned over Gin and Izuru, his unlayered bobbed blond hair falling in a sheet around his head, like a shower curtain.

"Bullshit, Ichimaru, I sawr you just last night. Who d'ya think arranged for you and your boyfriend to have this hotel room anyway, you drunk?"

Gin huffed. "Pfft, I can't remember a thing about last night."

"Me neither." Izuru breathed into the down comforter. Gin still had Izuru's finger's pressed to his cheek.

Shinji kicked Gin in the side. "Ow!" Gin yelped, and jerked Izuru's hand. Izuru came crashing down on Gin with a squeak, their chests slamming together and Gin's foot sliding off the edge of the bed. Izuru placed his hands on either side of Gin's head to push himself up, Gin's chin barely missing Izuru's forehead. Their knees brushed, and Izuru's knee found a place to rest on the floor between Gin's thighs. He blushed heavily. "This isn't what it looks like." Izuru murmured."

"Oh, it's exactly what it looks like." Shinji retorted, his toothy expression growing more sarcastic. He folded his arms.

"Aw, Shinji, be nice to the kid." Gin slid into a sitting position, and Izuru sat back on his haunches. "He's still warmin' up to me." Gin winked a twitching wink.

Shinji's face contorted into a smile similar to Gin's. "He a newbie?" Shinji tossed his chin.

"Yup, I'm his proud first." Gin glowed.

"Lemme guess." Shinji held up a finger. "You top?"

"Eh, we ain't gotten that far yet." Gin looked positively indifferent, and minutely disappointed.

"A-re? Really?"

"He gets embarrassed really easy." The corners of Gin's mouth curled into a teasing sneer.

Izuru's cheeks pinkened.

"See?" Gin giggled.

"Ha ha, that's cute." Shinji folded his legs under himself as he joined them on the floor. "You guys feelin' okay? You were super drunk last night, and mutterin' nefarious things in yer sleep. Especially-" Shinji turned to Izuru. "You. I can't remember your name, even though Ichimaru kept sayin' it all last night."

"I'm Kira Izuru." Izuru said with a weak wave and another blush. His head was still pounding. _Nefarious things? What the heck did I say? _

"That's it!" Shinji smacked his palm to his forehead. "Thanks, bro. I suck at names."

Someone pounded heavily on the door. "Shinji, you asshat, open up." A harsh, pointed feminine voice.

"Shit, Hiyori." Shinji cursed.

"You still hangin' with that cutie?" Gin slurred, laying back down on the floor.

"Yeah, I can't seem to get rid of her." Shinji stood up.

"Can't be that bad." Gin said.

"It isn't, except when she beats up on me." He crept towards the door. "She's like an abusive girlfriend."

"I don't remember you swingin' that way, Shinji."

Shinji grumbled. "I don't. She's just so clingy." He unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door just a crack. "'Morning, Hiyori." He said cheerily.

"Let me in, idiot."

"Now Hiyori, let's settle down a little bi-"

"You've been missing since last night, jerk!"

"I've been visiting with an old friend, dude. Take a chill pill."

"Oh? You still "visiting" with her?"

"_He_," Shinji emphasized. "We were friends in high school."

"So why ain't you letting me in?" Hiyori demanded.

"Because I think you're a threat to m- Oof!" Hiyori kicked the door in Shinji's face. "What was that for?" Shinji demanded, reeling backwards from the blow.

"I'm coming in." Hiyori growled.

A short, freckled girl with spikey honey blond hair pulled into pony tails stomped into the room with sandaled feet, her menacing scowl showing one scraggly tooth. Her hands were clenched into fists.

"Ichimaru." She growled, her eyes narrowing to slits when she spied Gin.

"Long time, no see, Hiyori." Gin purred from the floor. Izuru swayed, and rested his head on the edge of the white bed. He really didn't want to bother with the impending showdown.

"You- Shinji, you weren't friends with this guy!"

"Yes I was. Don't kill him, he's here with his partner!" Shinji attempted to step in front of Hiyori. She deflected him with a punch, and he crumpled to the floor. "Ow."

"Partner. You mean blondie over here? The drunk one?" Hiyori pointed rudely at Izuru.

Izuru pushed aside his bangs to give her a fuzzy once-over in acknowledgement. Gin sat up, and leaned his back on the bed. "He doesn't handle alcohol well." Gin explained, patting Izuru on the shoulder.

Hiyori's upper lip twitched. Shinji stood up, and wiped his bleeding nose on the back of his hand. "Hiyori, let's step outside and I'll explain."

"You damnwell better." Hiyori turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Shinji shrugged and followed her.

"I suppose you deserve an explaination too, ne?" Gin said, turning his head to look at Izuru.

"Say whatever you feel fit." Izuru mumbled.

Gin sighed, pushing his sterling hair back from his face with a skinny hand. "Shinji used ta sneak to the Gay Straight Alliance meetings."

"Gay Straight Alliance?" Izuru sat up, rubbing his eyes, his headache a dull pain now.

"I was the president. But I guess that's beside the point. The thing is Shinji's group was pretty anti-gay, so Shinji couldn't tell them that he was going to GSA meetings. Sousuke, Kaname and I were all his biggest supporters."

Izuru wasn't sure all this information was going in. "That's cool. But wasn't he in the fight you and Hisagi had?"

"Yeah. Shinji was in Kensei's group. And just before the fight Kensei had found out that Shinji was going to meetings, and of course he told Shuuhei, who got mad at me. But the worst part was Kensei told Shuuhei right in the middle of the fight. That's when Shuuhei snagged me on the arm."

"But that doesn't explain why Shinji was fighting." Izuru let his arms flop to his sides, and Gin traced butterfly-light circles on his palm with an ivory pinky.

"He was fightin' in self-defense. Wrong place at the wrong time, ya know? Grimmjow got mad at Shinji for spillin' the beans about GSA."

"I see." Izuru quivered at Gin's feathery touch.

"But it looks like Hiyori hadn't heard. She's an intense fighter." Gin sighed. "Shinji's a cool guy, ain't he? Plays some mean jazz guitar."

Izuru nodded faintly. "He looks to be really easy-going."

The door creaked open. "She's pissed." Shinji slunk through the door, a sandal-shaped red mark that read "Teva" backwards blossoming on his left cheek, and the blood that leaked from his nose was beginning to crust.

"Ouch!" Gin exclaimed, studying Shinji's face with scrutinizing squinted eyes. "Man, she really is the abusive girlfriend type."

"Holy crap." Izuru breathed, leaning forward. "Are you okay?" Slowly but surely his hangover was dissipating, much to his relief, his vision finding its focus again.

"I'll be fine." Shinji huffed, rubbing his smarting cheek. "Hiyori's gonna hate me now, though. I think she liked me."

"She liked you?" Gin stood up, and pulled Izuru to his feet. Izuru brushed off his shirt.

"Probably. Hey, do you guys want a ride back to your hotel? We're on the opposite side of town right now."

"We are? In that case, that'd be great. Thanks, Shinji." Gin glanced around the room, and spied his shoes and jacket near the door. He threw his jacket on and stuffed his feet in his shoes.

Izuru looked for his own shoes and socks. "Where are my shoes and socks?" He asked, not seeing them.

"You gave them to some guy with cherry red hair and tribal tattoos at the bar last night." Shinji sighed. "He put them in his pants, then you guys danced together. It was really rather awkward to watch."

Izuru hid behind his hands. "I really did that?"

"Yup," Shinji said, chipper. "I'm gonna wash my face, then I suppose we'll check out and skedaddle to uptown."

"I can't believe I danced with a guy who had my shoes down his pants." Izuru squeaked, his voice cracking.

"Ya get used to it." Gin said, elbowing Izuru playfully.

"Used to it?" Izuru gasped, whipping his head up from his hands. "You mean we're going to do that _again_?"

* * *

Izuru sank into a tackily upholstered chair in their hotel room, and Gin flopped on the flowery bed. Izuru's headache was almost completely gone, but now his limbs felt like lead from the workout he'd gotten dancing and running from the authorities and dragging passed out bodies off the dance floor so he wouldn't trip on them while he danced more. He sighed.

"Gin, don't you miss your parents?" He asked.

"Uh-huh. All the time."

"Why don't you ever show it, then?"

Gin sat up. "I do!"

Izuru slouched lower. "Then how come I never really see it? All you ever do is smile. It makes it really hard for me to read into you."

"Read into me?" Gin echoed.

"Yes!" Izuru huffed, exasperated, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with both hands. "It's starting to bug me."

Gin was silent. Izuru peeped open one eye.

"Do you hate me?" Gin's voice was childish, and the question was innocent. Izuru studied Gin's face. His lips were pressed into a curling, closed-mouth smile, and his eyes were narrowed to arching slits, the bright aqua of his irises a miniscule glint of smoldering ocean. He was curled in on himself, his knees pulled up under his chin.

Izuru let his hands fall away from his face, and he looked at Gin with puppy dog eyes. "No. It's quite the opposite. Regrettably the opposite." He looked at the ceiling.

"Come on a walk with me."

"Huh?" He returned his gaze to Gin.

"Come on. It's midday. We have hours." Gin stood up, stretching his long legs.

"O-okay." Izuru rose from the chair, and went to retrieve shoes from his bag, since his other ones were down some guy's pants. He slipped his feet into leather flip-flops, and followed Gin out the door. "Where are we going?"

"Just down the street," Gin said, shutting the door to their one-bed room. "To the Gion district." He started out of the hotel, and made a right. Izuru followed quickly, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets.

They entered the old-fashioned looking Gion district, with the machiya and ochaya houses, and their wooden exteriors. A small stream was directly to their right, and Izuru caught a glimpse of a blue heron, standing majestically on the railing of a bridge. Gin seemed to know the area well.

"Gin, did you live in the Gion district?" He asked, dashing a little to catch up to Gin, who was ten steps ahead.

"No," Gin answered plainly, shrugging. "But I lived close. We lived in a Western-style house, kinda like yours. I used ta come mess 'round here in the Gion district with friends after school, ya know?"  
"Sounds like fun." Izuru bobbed his head. "A... Are we going any place in particular?"

"No."

Izuru gulped. Did he make Gin mad? Oh, he hoped not. He'd never seen Gin angry before. They walked together in silence for maybe half an hour. Gin veered off into the backlanes of the Gion district, and Izuru followed unquestioningly as they passed a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront. Gin stopped, and Izuru almost ran into his back.

"Gi-" Izuru began.

"'Zuru, do ya not like that I'm not good at showin' emotion?" Gin was staring at the concrete beneath his shoes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Izuru asked, taking a step to stand beside Gin.

"I've never been good at showin' emotion or explaining myself."

"Gin, that's fine."

"No, it isn't!" Gin shouted huskily, swiveling his head to face Izuru. "Not when I'm with someone like you. Your face is always changin', always gettin' some new expression and mine ain't. I don't know how. It ever occur to ya that I might get jealous a that?"

Izuru sighed heavily. "No, it di-"

"You're beautiful, Izuru, and I'm not. My parents always told me that my hair was silver for a reason, or that I was blessed to have such distinct features, but I always hated it. I always got weird stares, or got teased, or treated different. Sure, ya don't look like a normal Japanese person either, but at least your hair is an actual hair color." Gin's hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Gin, stop it." Izuru scolded, taking hold of his elbow. "Stop putting yourself down like this." He gripped Gin's chin and forced him to look Izuru in the eyes. "You do too have facial expressions. Like right now. You're pouting, you big softie. And you have the prettiest eyes and hair I've ever seen in my life."

"They're too bright." Gin mumbled, his speech garbled by Izuru's pressing fingertips.

"They're perfect." Izuru laced his skinny arms around Gin's midsection. "And quit pouting."

Slowly, Gin followed Izuru's lead and wrapped his own arms around Izuru's shoulders and buried his face in Izuru's hair. _I really like this guy, _they both thought.


	11. No Place Like Home

Shinji knocked on the door of Kensei's condo. Kensei opened the door, looking disgruntled, running a hand through his silver hair. "Shinji," He exclaimed. "Hey, where's Hiyori? She's always with you."

"Not today. She got mad at me this morning." Shinji shoved his hands in the pockets of his gray pencil-leg slacks.

"I can see that by the sandal mark on your face. Come in?" Kensei suggested, holding the door wider.

"Thanks." Shinji slunk through Kensei's door, and swiped himself a seat on the black leather sofa next to Mashiro. She gave him a huge grin, her lime green hair swinging cheerfully. She was leaning way forward, elbows on her knees as she flipped through a wedding magazine. "You'll never guess who I rescued last night."

"Who?" Kensei asked, throwing his huge figure down in a sky blue sofa chair.

"Ichimaru." Shinji stretched his skinny legs out, and crossed them at the ankle, staring at his shiny wingtip shoes.

"Him? Really?" Kensei grumbled.

"Wow, he's still alive?" Mashiro lifted her chin off her palm, her glossy lips pouting.

Kensei smacked his hand to his forehead. "You thought he died?"

Mashiro shrugged, her apple eyebrows lifting to hide under flat bangs.

Shinji snorted. "He and his partner came down from Sapporo for some reason, and got roaringly drunk at the local bar."

"The bar? Dude, I didn't think you drank alone." Kensei frowned.

"I don't. I ran into them in front of the mini-mart around midnight. I was just coming out with my soda, and here comes Gin, running at full speed, laughing like a maniac with a cute, depressed-looking blond guy in tow. Kira, I think his name was. So they pass me, Gin almost stepping on my toe, and then a police races by and I know they're in trouble." Shinji folded his arms behind his head.

"Kensei, what do you think of this dress?" Mashiro held up the magazine and pointed to an orange and white dress.

"Whatever you want, babe. It's your dress." Kensei flicked a hand.

"Oh, yay!" She drew an arrow pointing at it with a red permanent marker.

"Speaking of dresses, Kensei, how's the wedding planning coming along?" Shinji tipped his face to Kensei.

Kensei grunted. "We're still working out a date and guest list. And Mashiro wants a white poppy bouquet."

"It's our flower, Kensei!" Mashiro piped.

"Yeah, I know." He folded his arms.

"Good." Mashiro returned to happily flipping pages.

Kensei turned to Shinji. "So. Ichimaru, eh? Did he look well?"

Shinji shrugged. "He looked happy with the guy he was with."

Kensei looked at the ceiling. _Another boyfriend. Do they have a word for something like that? A womanizer who womanizes men? A man-izer? _"Sounds good." Kensei sighed. _We've all adjusted so well to Shinji being the way he is. It's almost like we never had the GSA incident. _

Mashiro swung her legs back and forth, kicking her heels against the bottom of the sofa. "Kensei, can we have those tiny sandwiches at our wedding? The kind with things like cucumber and egg salad? They're just so _cute_!"

Kensei grimaced. "You can have whatever we can afford."

Mashiro blinked her gray-brown eyes. "What can we afford?"

"Ask your mom. Didn't she say she was paying for half of it?"

Mashiro put a slim finger to her chin. "Oh yeah. I'll go call her!" Mashiro ricocheted off the sofa, jostling Shinji, and grabbed her phone off the low coffee table.

"Boy, she's as energetic as always."

Kensei rolled his eyes. "You're telling _me_."

* * *

As much as Shuuhei was frustrated with Izuru right now, he really hated living alone. While Izuru was with Gin in Kyoto for a four-day weekend trip, he spent most of his time at Matsumoto's apartment or at the school library, studying and writing articles. He couldn't wait for Izuru to return, even if it was with Gin in tow.

Matsumoto had made Shuuhei a copy of her key. Shuuhei stared at it on his key ring, it and all its shining silver door-opening glory. He fit it into the keyhole of Matsumoto's apartment door, and turned it to the right. The tumbler clicked, and the door creaked open. _Geez, I feel like I'm breaking and entering_, he thought, sweating bullets. The lights were off, and he shut the door and flicked on a floor lamp that was standing next to the sofa. He sat down, dropping his messenger bag on the carpet by the sofa, and kicking his shoes off. _Somehow I feel more comfortable in Matsumoto's place_, he thought, folding his arms behind his head.

He heard Matsumoto's keys jangle as she attempted to unlock her already unlocked door, and her cursing as she realized it was unlocked to begin with. "Shuu?" She asked as she opened the door.

"Hi." Shuuhei said with a sigh.

"Oh, so you're here. I was wondering where you were, because your Honda wasn't in the drive when I drove past you and Izuru's place." She left the door open.

"I didn't think our house was on your way from classes." Shuuhei noted.

"I worry about you, kid," Matsumoto set her bag down next to Shuuhei's and sat on the floor next to the sofa near Shuuhei's feet. "I wonder if you're doing well. You've seemed so down since Izuru came out."

"I just wasn't expecting it."

"Uh-huh."

"Really," Shuuhei insisted, staring at the ceiling. "Really, it was one of the very few things I expected Kira would do. He'd always been kind of ambiguous with his sexuality, but it always seemed that he'd remain uninterested in sex for his whole entire life. I mean, it seemed like he was going to finish his degree, then move to the mountains and become some sort of wholesome poet hermit who lives in a hut made of straw and mud."

"Okay then." Matsumoto giggled. "Maybe now he'll become a wholesome gay poet hermit."

"Wow, somehow that really fits."

Matsumoto threw back her head and cackled at this. Shuuhei smiled. "Hey, let's call him!"

Shuuhei pulled himself into a sitting position. "Call who?"

"Izuru, of course!" She was already dialing, then flipped the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" Izuru replied in a sleepy voice. There was a muffled masculine giggle.

"Izuru!" Matsumoto exclaimed, rather loudly. "It's..." She trailed off when there was a crackle and a thunk.

"We're busy right now. Might ya try calling later?" A different, reedier, accented baritone voice said like velvet. The other line clicked off, and Matsumoto pulled the phone away from her ear, looking genuinely confused.

"What happened? Did Izuru pick up?" Shuuhei frowned.

"Yeah, he did. But then some other guy hung up on me." Matsumoto copied Shuuhei's facial expression.

"Some other guy? Then it was Ichimaru who hung up on you."

"He what?"

* * *

Hugging for long periods of time is awkward, Izuru decided, entangled in a knot of angled limbs and compromising positions. But they're also warm and very lovely. Not to mention that Gin also smelled like vanilla today. Eventually Izuru pulled his head of Gin's shoulder to nuzzle the underside of Gin's porcelain chin. "I'll have you know you sounded really girly a moment ago." Izuru smirked.

Gin chuckled. "I guess so. I'm over it now, though."

"Oh, that's good." Gin pushed Izuru's hair back from his face, smiling. Izuru carefully analyzed his face. "You look like you're after something." He blinked.

Gin grinned wider. "A kiss?" Gin ventured.

"You greedy fox." Izuru let himself be taken up in a soft kiss and embrace, his hands on Gin's upper arms for balance.

"Gross! Guys kissing!" An obnoxious red-haired kid shouted as he trotted by, making gagging noises and a general fool of himself. Gin and Izuru pulled apart in surprise.

"Jinta, don't judge people," A slightly taller girl with black hair and sleepy eyes followed behind him, carrying both their school bags. Her voice was soft and submissive. "And if you tease them, we'll be late and Tessai will be mad!"

"Shut up, Ururu!" The boy named Jinta groused, but nonetheless picked up his pace in fear of said Tessai's wrath.

"Sorry to disrupt you, sirs." Ururu said with a bow and a tiny smile.

"Kids these days." Gin said, shaking his head once they were out of sight. "Didn't used to be like that when I was here."

"Huh." Was all Izuru could manage through his embarrassed blush. Why was it that those kinds of things always happened to them? It was like their lives were some sort of cliche story. Gin's lips blazed a mellifluous trail up and down the length of Izuru's neck.

Izuru's phone rang in his pocket, and he whipped it out and held it to his ear. "Hello?" His voice was thick.

"Izuru!" It was Matsumoto. Gin giggled and placed a gentle kiss on Izuru's collar. "It's m-"

Gin snatched away the phone. "We're busy right now. Might ya try calling later?" He purred into the phone, and snapped it shut with a twist of his skeletal fingers, slipping it into his own jeans pocket.

"You just hung up on Matsumoto!" Izuru cried, aghast.

Gin pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at it. "I _what_?" He shouted, frowning. "She'll call back, right? Aw man, now I feel bad."

"Yeah, she always calls back when she gets hung up on." He knew this from experience. Matsumoto was one persistent woman.

"Oh, good."

Their eyes were fixed on the phone until it buzzed again. Gin flashed it to his ear the nanosecond it did.

"Hello?" He said in a strained voice. Izuru leaned his ear close to Gin's to hear the conversation, standing on tiptoes.

"Izuru?" Matsumoto asked.

"No, it's Gin." Gin wrapped an arm around Izuru's waist to help him balance.

A silence. "Gin? Is it really you?"

"I dunno, Ran-chan, how many men d'ya know have accents like mine?"

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, it really is you! It's been so damn long! We _have_ to get together when you and Izuru come back from your trip." There were muffled noises, like the sound of the telephone being pressed to the fabric of a shoulder. "Shuu, it's Gin! You were right!" Shuuhei grunted. The telephone was moved to her mouth again. "How have you been?"

"So-so, y'know? I got 'Zuru now, though." Gin gave Izuru a squeeze.

"I heard about your dad. I'm really sorry."

"I'll be fine."

"You guys are coming back tomorrow night, right? Do you want to have dinner the day after?"

"Sounds fun, Ran! See you then?"

"Right, right! Yeah, see you." Matsumoto hung up first.

"She's so bubbly." Gin stated with a broad simper. Izuru snickered.


	12. The Pasta Reunion

"Gin!" Matsumoto cried as soon as she'd jumped out of Shuuhei's Honda. Izuru was a little taken aback by her apparel, which seemed to be a huge change from what she normally wore. She was wearing a rather sixties-reminiscent short turtle neck tank top made from a heavy powder blue fabric that seemed to downsize her bosom by three-fold. A silver chain belt was draped effectively around her wider hips, and she wore a simple pair of denim jeans and mulberry flats. It was hardly revealing at all. She slammed the door and ran to give Gin a flying hug. Gin's knees buckled slightly under her weight and he staggered back, causing Izuru to jump out of the way. Matsumoto released Gin from her death-hug, and took a step back to give him a once- and twice-over. "You've gotten so damn tall!" She said with a laugh. "Man, it's been years. We used to be such pipsqueaks."

"It really has been, ain't it?" Gin echoed her laugh. "So where d'ya want ta go for dinner? Oh, and I invited Izuru to come along, I hope ya don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind. I invited Shuuhei, anyway."

"So basically it's a double date." Shuuhei interjected, locking his car and shoving the keys in his coat pocket. He grimaced inwardly.

"Why not?" Matsumoto shrugged, and looped her arm around Shuuhei's elbow, and the other one around Gin's. She looked very happy with her harem of men. Izuru latched onto Gin's free elbow with both arms, feeling protective. His eyebrows pulled together, and his lips formed a lush pout. "Hey, let's get Italian! I feel like spaghetti today."

"Oh, I know this Italian place just down the street," Gin said, swaying back and forth. "Called Luigi's. Sousuke said it was good eats."

"Let's go there! What do you think, Shuuhei? Izuru?" Izuru shrugged and Shuuhei grunted. They were going to be third and fourth wheels in this reunion get-together, they could feel it in their bones.

* * *

It was a nice restaurant.

They were seated right away by a young waiter whose name tag told them he was called "Sergio". Sergio brought glasses of ice water, and empty wine glasses for the wine they'd probably be drinking later. He handed them menus and told them to take their time.

Izuru looked around the restaurant, and decided that they were one of the only two groups in the restaurant. His eyes glazed over when he looked at the menu, barely taking in the hard-to-pronounce names of dishes. He thought the... gorgonzola Gnocchi looked good. Guh-nocky? Nyocky? Noh-chee? _Guh_-noh-chee? He decided he would just point at it when it came time to order.

Sergio came to take their order a little while later, pad of paper in hand. Matsumoto ordered four-cheese tortellini, Shuuhei ordered lasagna, and Gin took five minutes deliberating whether or not he should get spaghetti, Portobello mushroom ravioli, or fettuccini alfredo. Eventually Sergio spoke up, suggesting how delicious the fettuccini was. So Gin went with that, slapping down the menu. Izuru just pointed at his un-pronounceable choice, and Sergio nodded, scribbling it down on his pad of paper. He dashed off, and the four returned to conversation, discussing the pros and cons of cotton versus bamboo fibers. Gin was arguing on the side of bamboo, and was winning.

Izuru cleared his throat and took a drink from his sweating glass of ice water. He set it down heavily. "So how did you and Rangiku meet, Gin?" He asked, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hands.

"Miss Ochi's first grade class. We were reading buddies."

"You were always so much better than me." Matsumoto scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And you always brought dried persimmons for a snack after school."

Izuru studied Gin's blissful face carefully, forgetting to pay attention to the conversation.

"Hey, Izuru, how did you and Gin meet?" Matsumoto asked, putting her chin on two fists with a sweet smile. "If you don't mind me asking."

"At the c-cemetery." Izuru stammered, caught off guard. He tore his eyes away from Gin's face. "I tripped on him and he walked me to my car."

Matsumoto snickered, and both Izuru and Gin shot her a scolding glance. "Sounds like love, if you ask me." She shrugged.

"I thought Gin was a stalker, at first. He scared the crap out of me." Izuru folded his hands in his lap.

"That's a great first impression, Gin. Way to go." Matsumoto laughed sarcastically.

Gin shrugged. "'S not like I meant it. 'Sides, I thought he cut himself at first. I guess we both had our own first impressions, ne?"

"How did you find out he didn't cut himself?" Matsumoto asked, leaning back in her chair.

Gin stood up, his chair scooting back obnoxiously, grabbed one of Izuru's hands from his lap, and flipped it over to show Matsumoto the pale, blue-tinted skin of the underside of Izuru's wrist. The flesh was unscarred and pristine. "'S pretty hard not to notice when we're hands-on." Gin raised his eyebrows, sitting down, and Izuru took his hand back.

Shuuhei made a small gagging noise. Everybody turned to look at him. "Sorry," he said unconvincingly. "I'm still not very used to this whole... you guys being... homosexual... thing." He twiddled his thumbs.

Izuru shrugged, and Sergio showed up with a basket of bread sticks and a small dish of garlic butter. Gin and Shuuhei immediately reached a piece of bread and a knife to slather on the garlic butter with. They made noises of deliciousness as they bit in. "Is it good?" Matsumoto asked, and when they nodded vigorously in the affirmative, she snagged herself her own piece of bread. Izuru decided he'd hold out for his Gnocchi, and not have any bread.

Which might've been the best decision he ever made in his life.

When Sergio brought out their plates of food and the gnocchi was set in front of him, he nearly salivated a waterfall. And its taste lived up perfectly to the appearance.

Nobody spoke a word while food was being consumed. Matsumoto was first to put her fork down. "Ah." She said, satisfied. Izuru nodded, and somehow Gin slurped a noodle between smiling lips. "Who wants wine?" She asked, reaching for the wine menu.

"I'll have a glass." Izuru offered.

"Same here." Gin pushed the last noodle around in circles on his plate.

"Please drink in moderation." Shuuhei frowned.

"Yeah, whatever." Matsumoto shrugged. "You can be our designated driver!"

Shuuhei folded his arms. "That doesn't make me happy at all."

"Excuse me, waiter!" Matsumoto flagged the young waiter by flapping her arms wildly. "Can we get a bottle of the Chianti Classico?" He nodded, and disappeared into the wine cellar.

* * *

Izuru had become very taken with the subtleties of a crystal wine glass. He studied the glistening rim with bright eyes, taking in every tiny scratch from past teeth clacking roughly against it, sipping a multitude of different wines. On the stem were delicate, near-invisible lines from the original making of the glass, and the bottom didn't sit completely flat. But it was a perfect circle. He raised it to his lips for another drink.

"And so I told the guy, 'Hey, my face is up here!' because he was totally staring at my chest. I mean, it's not like I'm that busty!" Matsumoto leaned back, swirling the Chianti around in her glass, two lumps of contradiction stuck to her ribcage. Gin laughed softly, and poured himself another inch of wine. Shuuhei had gotten up to use the facilities, and Izuru was beginning to think he might join him. They were getting pretty rambunctious.

Which was why Sergio intervened. "Excuse me," he said. "Would you mind lowering your voices a bit? You're disturbing the other patrons."

"Huh?" Matsumoto squinted her eyes. Izuru could tell she was playing with him.

"Would you be quiet?" Matsumoto threw her head back and laughed. Sergio frowned, and puffed up his chest. "Ma'am, if you don't settle down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Matsumoto leaned forward with a snicker. "Listen here, _buster_. My friends and I are having a good time. I'm going to have to ask _you_ to leave."

Sergio turned on his heel and stomped off.

* * *

"Say," Matsumoto said as they strolled down the lamp-lit street after their meal at Luigi's. She linked arms with Gin, her soft round cheeks tinted with pink from the wine. "Will we see the winter fireworks this year, Gin?" She sighed, leaning on Gin's shoulder. "I remember we used to go every year. Your mother used to buy us fairy floss, and we'd get it all over our faces and in our hair." She laughed, and Gin chimed in. "Do you think there's a firework festival here?" Izuru followed close behind the two, feeling that same sort of protectiveness he'd felt when they were walking to Luigi's. Sensing the uncomfortable feeling radiating off of Izuru, Gin reached back and hooked two fingers through his beltloop, tugging him closer. Izuru followed Gin's example and latched his own forefinger onto one of Gin's beltloops. Shuuhei cast a dark glance over at the two, and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuck one between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter.

"I haven't looked in t' a winter fireworks festival here on Hokkaido. Izuru, d'ya know of any?" Gin asked Izuru, tugging lightly on Izuru's waist band.

Izuru shook his head, his cheeks flushing. "Not that I can immediately recall. There is the Sapporo Snow Festival, but I don't know if there's fireworks."

"Huh." Both Gin and Matsumoto turned their faces to the dark sky. Izuru looked at the ground and scuffed at a dried leaf with the toe of his shoe. Shuuhei puffed on his cigarette, blowing the blue billowy smoke away from the group. "Let's go t' the Snow Festival, then." Gin decided with that wide mocking simper of his. "Olla us." Gin tugged Izuru so close that their bony hips clashed, and Izuru was forced to let go of Gin's belt loop, otherwise his elbow would have been bent in the most uncomfortable of positions. Matsumoto caught hold of Shuuhei's arm, surprising him so that he almost dropped his cigarette, and slid her fingers down so that they were hand in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuru could see Shuuhei turn the color of a plum. _Maybe Shuuhei likes Matsumoto_, Izuru thought with a smirk. He wrapped his own arms around Gin's elbow.

"That sounds like loads of fun!" Matsumoto laughed. "Let's do it. I've never been to the Snow Festival before."

Everybody was smiling.

_It kind of feels like a family_, Izuru noticed, burying his face into the fabric of Gin's sleeve.


	13. Fruit

Izuru heaved a very heavy sigh, clicking on the radio, and hefted open his textbook. He put his finger on the first paragraph and began reading. With winter break on its way, all his teachers were assigning big end-of-the-term assignments, mostly consisting of giant reading assignments and papers to write. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and focused more on the news playing from the radio than on his homework. It was the weather report, and the smooth voice of the announcer predicted snow. Lots of it. Which wasn't that unusual for early November in Hokkaido. Izuru huffed, and flicked his eyes to his blindingly bright window. Tiny flecks of frozen white drifted down from the clouds, and Izuru heard the front door slam as Shuuhei prepared to put chains on the tires of his car. The chains jangled loudly. Now distracted, Izuru threw his pencil down in the crease of the textbook and pushed away from his desk, shutting the radio off. He pulled on his jacket, zipping it up to his chin, and slung his bag over his shoulder, deciding he would go for a walk around the neighborhood. When he reached his front door, his fingers hovered momentarily above the shiny doorknob. But he dashed away his unnecessary momentary uncertainty and flung the door open.

He stepped into the bitter, brisk cold, and waved to Shuuhei as he scuffled down the driveway. Shuuhei waved back from where he was kneeling in the thin, thin layer of snow beside a car wheel. Izuru hung a right and strolled down the sidewalk. The snow began to fall steadily, and Izuru could see his breath fogging in front of him. He heard laughter, and watched a family of four saunter down the other side of the road. He recognized the only son to be a student at the university he attended, the one with bright orange hair. _Those other people must be his father and sisters_, Izuru thought, noticing how the orange haired one looked very much like his dark haired, bearded father. The two young girls Izuru assumed to be the sisters were very different in both appearance and demeanor. Wondering where the mother might be, Izuru directed his gaze at the powdery ground, allowing the family to pass.

Walking another two blocks, Izuru eventually came to the neighborhood park. The metal structure was dusted with snow, and there were two small children ducking in and out of the frosty jungle gym, laughing hysterically, followed closely by a man with white hair. Izuru found himself a place on a bench, and watched the happy trio playing. The two small boys, who looked to be no older than four or five, both had silvery white hair pulled back into stubby little pony tails. Their light green eyes were bright with joy as the older man with them played tag with them to the best of his ability. The man had white hair much like the small twins, pulled into a long pony tail, and warm brown eyes. Every so often, though, the man would double over to catch his breath, air rasping heavily in his lungs. The small boys would knit their brows in concern and come over to him, tugging on his sleeves to make sure he was okay. The man would always look up with a wide smile and ruffle the boys' hair, and their game of tag would resume. Izuru watched this routine passively until the white haired man slowed from his jog, and doubled over, coughing. The boys came to tug on his sleeves, urging him to be okay. The man shook his head, his coughs wracking his body. It was obvious he wasn't okay at the moment. Izuru stood up, concerned, and went to put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Are you okay, sir?" He asked.

"I'll... be fine." The man said between coughs. __

You don't sound fine. Izuru thought. "Come on, let's go sit down." Izuru led the man to the bench where he had been sitting. The twin boys followed close behind, their hands tightly clasped. Izuru pulled a bottle of water from his bag, and handed it to the man, who gratefully accepted it and took a dainty sip.

"Thank you, my boy." Izuru was handed back his water bottle. "I'm Ukitake Juushirou." Ukitake Juushirou held out a hand for Izuru to shake. Izuru shook his hand, and getting a good look at his face, recognized him as one of the flight attendants that was on the plane he and Gin had taken down to Tokyo.

"Kira Izuru." He said with a weak smile. "Are you sure you'll be fine?" Izuru insisted, patting Ukitake's shoulder. "Aren't you a flight attendant? I remember you were on a flight I took in early September."

The twin boys each hugged one of Ukitake's knees. "Oh, I was. I quit last month, though, for health reasons. I also thought it would be nice to go back to school and settle down, maybe become a substitute teacher." He said with a smile and a laugh.

"That sounds nice."

"It is. Especially because I get to spend more time with my nephews." Ukitake put a hand on each of the silver haired twin boys' heads.

"They have such an unusual hair color. Is it natural or dyed?" Izuru's mind wandered to Gin, and his coin-bright silvery hair.

"I guess you could say it's natural. It didn't used to be white. They used to have such dark black hair." Ukitake sighed.

"What happened?" Izuru asked, now curious.

"They got sick. Tuberculosis. When they were little a really bad attack turned their hair white. My sister thinks they might have caught the tuberculosis from me, but mine isn't active, so it's not contagious."

"That's really too bad." Izuru sighed.

"I guess it is. The same thing happened to me, though. I'm not as old as I look!" Ukitake laughed again.

"Oji-san, it's cold." One of the twins whined.

"Oji-san, Okaa-chan said we hafta be home soon." The other one added.

"All right, then. I suppose we should go." Ukitake stood up and took the boys' hands. "Thank you for your kindness, Kira-kun." He said with a bow that the twin children mimicked. "I suppose we'll see you around!" Ukitake led the boys away across the white park.

Izuru pulled one corner of his mouth back in a half smile, and put his water bottle back in his bag.

* * *

Izuru rubbed his hands together, finding it was colder outside than he had anticipated. He was beginning to wish he's grabbed a warmer jacket, and maybe some mittens. And long johns. Shaking in his shoes from the frigid weather, he jumped nearly a foot in the air when a car honked its horn behind him. A lustrous silver convertible slowed to a crawl beside Izuru, and the mirror-like window rolled down to reveal a smiling silver face to match the car. Izuru grimaced. "Cold?" Gin asked. Izuru shot him a glance that said something along the lines of: 'Yes, you fool. I'm cold. Thanks for pointing it out, now do something about it, jerk.'. The window began to roll up. "Hop in."

The car was so warm. Izuru slammed the door behind himself as quickly as he could, and reveled in the warmth of the modern inside of Aizen's car that still smelled brand-new. Gin twisted around in the passenger seat and smiled broadly at Izuru. "Kira-kira like the snow!"^ He laughed, and Aizen smirked. Izuru scowled and buckled his seat belt.

"I don't glitter." He harrumphed.

"Sourpuss." Gin tittered, snatching Izuru's hand and pressing a kiss to the pads of Izuru's nearly hypothermic fingers. Gin's chilly lips did nothing to warm them. Izuru balled his hands into fists and stuck them under his knees. He opened his mouth to say something when they passed by his house, but shut it when he realized they were heading towards Aizen's condominium as they turned left and headed more into town. Aizen always had the best loose-leaf lychee tea. Just the thought of it warmed Izuru's insides, and he smiled faintly.

They pulled up to Aizen's steel-gray townhouse, and they all clambered out of the car and into the welcoming, warm inside. Aizen was the last inside, pulling the door shut behind himself. "Who wants lychee tea?" He asked, clapping his hands together.

"I do!" Izuru chimed, toeing off his snow-drenched canvas sneakers in the tiny genkan. Gin flopped down on the step to pull off his dark red galoshes, revealing out-of-character Domo-kun ankle socks. Izuru kind of coveted them. They lined up their shoes on a rack, and stepped onto the familiar light blond hardwood floor. They both followed Aizen into the kitchen, where he filled a kettle with water and set it on to boil. They all sat down at the kitchen table, and said nothing. Gin slid down so that he was slouching so low his chin was level with the edge of the table, and Izuru folded his arms on the tabletop and rest his forehead on his wrists.

"Do you still need help packing, Gin?" Aizen asked, and the kettle began to whistle from the stove. He stood up to pour the water into a tea pot, and spooned a generous amount out the loose leaf, fruity-scented tea into the shiny, orbicular tea infuser. He dunked it into the tea pot and shut the lid, bringing it to the table along with three tall white mugs.

"Nah, I'm good. There are jus' a few more things I need ta box up." Gin sat up a little straighter.

"You're moving?" Izuru took his head off his arms and stared at Gin. "Why didn't you tell me?" He accepted the mug of steaming tea from Aizen.

"But I'm not. I'm jus' packing things up so that if I do hafta leave in a hurry, it's easy ta do so. I'm 'spectin' ta get evicted soon, since Dad's been dead for a couple months now." Gin sipped his own lychee tea with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh. Okay. You can always stay at my place, you know. There's a little space I can spare in my bed." Izuru clutched the burning mug with still cold hands.

Gin shook his head. "I wouldn't want ta intrude on Shuuhei-san."

Izuru shrugged. "I guess that makes sense."

"Cream or sugar?" Aizen interjected, returning the tin of tea to its place in the cabinet.

"No thank you." Izuru shook his head, and blew away the steam rising off the surface of the red-brown hot leaf juice.

"Gin?" Aizen inquired of the silver-haired one. Gin noisily slurped from his mug, making known that he was just fine without cream or sugar. Aizen smirked and sat back down. "Are you going to ask Kira-kun?"

"Oh yeah." Gin set down his lychee tea. "Day b'fore yesterday I found my old friend Grimmjow's phone number while I was boxin' things up. He lives in Yokohama now, but I was surprised he still had the same cell phone after all these years. I called him up, and I arranged ta go visit them fer the holidays, an' I was wondering if ya'd like ta accompany me."

"I'd love to!" Izuru exclaimed, taking a sip of the tea. It instantly warmed his insides, just as he had anticipated and yearned for when they were in the car.

"Great! So you'll come with me?" Gin's face-breaking smile fanned out across his face, touching each of his ear lobes.

"Of course. When are you planning to leave?"

* * *

_AN _

_^ Kira-kira is a Japanese onomatopoeia meaning "glitters/sparkly". I used it because it a pun on Kira's name. Get it? Kira. Kira-kira. Ha! It's a knee slapper, innit? XD _

_Anyway, here is the next installment of "The Grounds Keeper's Son". Sorry it's kind of filler-ish, but I'm building up to something, I swear! I had to speed things up, so..._

_sfj  
_


	14. Move

"You're so cruel, Gin-chan." Aizen chuckled, leaning against the arm of his favorite tall-backed chair. His coke-bottle glasses lay on the coffee table in the middle of the room, and his hair was lazily pushed away from his sneering face. Gin sat on the over-sized couch to Aizen's left, his cheeky smile plastered to his moon-pale face, hiding any thoughts he might be thinking. "Playing with Kira-kun like that. I know you know it won't end well. The boy honestly likes you!" Aizen's dark chortling echoed throughout his luxurious condominium.

"Ah, but that's where th' fun is, Sousuke. It's no fun if it's a farce!" Gin snickered, folding his arms. "Izuru is so cute, I can't help myself."

"You're going through a lot of trouble just for a couple laughs, Gin. You're such a thorough man." Aizen templed his squarish fingers.

"'S all for the beguiling victory, my friend." Gin's voice was mocking and silken.

"What will you do if you hurt the boy?" Aizen asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I'll have been finished with him by then, so it'd be none a my concern." Bright white teeth were flashed at Aizen.

Aizen shut his eyes, his terrible smile still echoing on his lips. "How much of your show is real?" He massaged his brow with his thumb and forefinger. Gin was silent. Aizen rose slowly from his chair and came to stand over Gin, leaning very close to his face. "You are loyal to me."

"Until I find a better match." Gin finished, a smoldering stare hidden behind squinted lids. Intimate, experienced lips stole each other's breath, faces clasped between two very different sets of hands.

* * *

Snow was beginning to pile up as it always did in early December. Winter break was beginning in just a few days, and Izuru and Gin were preparing for their eighteen day trip to Yokohama to spend time with Gin's old friends. Aizen wouldn't be coming with them, as he was spending the holidays with his mother, who lived on the other side of Sapporo. (Listening to Aizen's phone calls with his mother always made Izuru giggle.) Izuru had gotten a promotion at Starbucks, and was now the store manager. When he had told Shuuhei and Matsumoto that at the end of November, Matsumoto had immediately produced a bottle of sake and drank herself silly. Shuuhei ended up driving her home as he always did, but ever since they'd gotten together, he would spend the night at her place instead of just dumping her on the couch with a note. Which was why Izuru wasn't all that surprised when Shuuhei made an announcement at breakfast. "Matsumoto wants me to move in with her." Shuuhei said, jamming bread into the malfunctioning toaster. "Is that okay?"

Izuru shrugged. "Do you need help moving your things?" He asked, loading jars of jam into his arms.

"So you're cool with it?" Shuuhei brought out two small plates.

Izuru shrugged again. "Yeah. But you have to take that toaster with you."

Shuuhei flashed a frown. "But Rangiku already has a toaster."

"Consider it a housewarming gift."

Shuuhei shook his head, and the toast popped up in a puff of smoke. "What will you do once I'm gone?"

"I'll probably rent out the top floor again, or move up to the top floor and rent the bottom out, for a change of scenery." _Gin is looking for a place, and I already offered him my bed. Two could fit, if we cuddle really close together, _Izuru thought as he and Shuuhei sat down to toast at the kitchen table.

"Oh, okay."

Eating commenced quietly.

"Do you still need help packing?" Izuru asked after a couple minutes.

"I think I'll be okay. Rangiku said she'd help me out, and I don't have that much stuff, anyway." Shuuhei bit into his blackened toast.

* * *

"Is that the last box?" Izuru asked, watching Shuuhei load a cardboard box into the back of his car.

"Rangiku's bringing the last one down, then I just have to grab my guitars." Shuuhei stretched his back, twisting from side to side. He jogged back to the front door, where he nearly ran into Matsumoto. He apologized with a quick kiss to her lips, and Izuru looked down and smiled. They were so good for each other. Matsumoto slid the last box into the back of Shuuhei's car, and stepped back, brushing her hands off on her sweatpants then tightening her pony tail.

"There."

"Good luck, Matsumoto-san." Izuru said with a tiny smile. "I hope you two are happy together."

"Aw, thanks, Kira-kun. I'll be glad to have someone who can cook in the house. I mean, have you ever tried his pasta in vodka sauce? It's fabulous." Matsumoto grinned wide.

Izuru smirked, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. It was very cold out. Shuuhei scuffled out the door, one electric guitar slung over his shoulder in its gig bag, an acoustic in his hand and an electric bass in a hard case nearly as tall as Izuru. "I forgot I also have to grab my amps and cords and that damned toaster." He said, gingerly setting his guitars in the backseat. He ran back into the house.

"Toaster?" Matsumoto tipped her head to the side, rubbing her hands together to ward off the chill.

"Housewarming gift." Izuru explained.

"Oh."

"Rangiku?" Shuuhei called from inside of the house. "Could you get the toaster from the kitchen? And Kira, could you help me carry one of the amps?"

Rangiku skittered inside the house, and rummaged for the toaster in the kitchen. Izuru pattered up the stairs, and hefted the black amplifier Shuuhei had set at the top of the stairs. It was so much heavier than it looked. His shoulders strained as he trudged down the stairs. He set the giant black box in the back seat of the car.

"Izuru, will you take a picture of Shuuhei and I?" She pulled a small digital camera out from her pocket, and handed it to Izuru. It fit neatly in the palm of his hand, and he snapped a picture of the new couple. Matsumoto had the toaster under her arm, and she was kissing Shuuhei on the scarred cheek, her bright blue eyes happily shut. Shuuhei had an arm wrapped around her waist, and was smiling with white teeth, a coil of patch cord hung on his shoulder. A snowflake had decided to hit the camera lens just as the photograph was taken, so the bottom right hand corner was blurred. Izuru giggled and handed the camera back to Matsumoto.

* * *

Izuru pushed a clear thumbtack into the cork board at "his" Starbucks, pinning the white flier to the cork. He stepped back to analyze it, and make sure he was saying what he wanted to say. "ROOM FOR RENT 2 Rooms, walk-in closet, master bath. Rent negotiable. Kitchen and living room shared. Have allergies, so no pets. Please call Kira Izuru 011-333-1133^" it read. He gave a curt nod, brushed his hands off on his green apron, and adjusted his visor. Hopefully he would get a call from a potential renter soon.

Today Izuru was on front register, sporting his brand new pin that read his name and then in bold letters beneath that, "Store Manager". He gave a tiny, smug, pleased smile and stationed himself behind the cash register to take orders. He called orders to the catty barista he'd grown to know as "Yoruichi", and the other barista he'd learned was called "Momo". They received the orders quickly, and pumped espresso and steamed milk with great speed. But one thing Izuru had not been expecting was to have his advertisement so quickly responded to.

A tall, silver haired woman stepped up to the counter, wallet in hand, and looked up at the menu with dark charcoal eyes. She flicked a glance at Izuru, and then did a double take. "Are you Kira Izuru?" She asked.

"I am." Izuru replied, tapping his ballpoint pen on the counter.

"Oh, I saw your ad for the rooms for rent," She said, gesturing vaguely at the corkboard by the front doors with a manicured hand. "And I think I might be interested. Could you give me an estimate of what you might charge for rent?" Her voice was very soft, and Izuru recognized it as the voice of a regular who went through the drive through very often.

"About 55,000 to 65,000 yen a month."

"Wow, that's really reasonable!" Her thin silver eyebrows shot up, and she began to fidget with one of the long, skinny braids on the right side of her head. "Now I'm really interested."

"Thanks." Izuru smiled.

"Oh, no problem! I'm Kotetsu Isane. Would it be alright if I called you tomorrow about the rooms? I have to get to my shift at the hospital soon."

"Of course. I'm leaving for a ten day trip on the 20th, though, so if you're interested in moving in quickly, that's absolutely fine."

"Oh, wow! That'd excellent. I'll call you tomorrow, then."

"Cool. Now, what would you like to order?" Izuru twirled the ballpoint pen between his fingers.

"Right! I'll have a venti cappuccino." She snapped open her wallet.

"Anything else?" Izuru wrote the order on a 20 oz. cup.

"That's it, thanks."

"Excellent." Izuru handed the cup to Yoruichi, and popped open the cash drawer to retrieve Kotetsu Isane's change.

* * *

_AN_

_^ Not a phone number you should call. _

_It's sooo fillerish. D: _

_sfj  
_


	15. But Oh, No

Izuru had thought that when Gin had said they were going to his old friend Grimmjow's "place", he was insinuating that it was a little bungalow on the outskirts of Yokohama, or maybe a cramped apartment. But oh, no.

It was an estate.

Three stories tall with a view of the bay and a giant Ferris wheel in the distance, lights dancing on the surface of the water at night, and in the day time, a beautiful view of the grey city. The rooms were spacious, the downstairs kitchen was industrial size, and there was a balcony on each of the top two levels. No, two balconies on each of the top two levels. The bathrooms were equipped with jet tubs and many flavors of bath salts and body lotions, and the bed rooms won't even start to be described.

When Izuru and Gin tumbled out of their taxi in front of the wrought-iron twenty foot-tall gate before the house, both of their jaws hit the ground. And maybe even dug their way to the Atlantic ocean. Gin pressed the buzzer, and when prompted to say who he was, said he was an old friend of Grimmjow's. The big black gates slowly swung open on their own accord. They wandered up the long gravel path, and when they at last reached the door (After they passed the porch, which was indeed adorned with Corinthian columns) , Izuru reached up to knock the brass knocker, which was ornately cast in the shape of some sort of jungle cat's head, the knocker's ring held in fiercely bared teeth. The navy blue door creaked open, and a small girl with her front teeth missing, green hair and sunburn-like blush peeked out.

"DAD!" She cried. "GRIMMY! There're some weird guyth here!"

Izuru and Gin exchanged nervous glances, and Izuru could tell Gin's eyes were flicking all over the place behind his squinted lids.

"Don't scream, Nel." A baritone voice scolded. A man with shock-blue hair and teal eyes hefted the small girl called Nel up from the floor, and balanced her on one hip. He looked at Gin and his lips spanned into a wide smile. "Ichimaru!" He laughed. "Long time no see! Welcome to the Estate!"

Gin gave the blue haired man a brisk man-hug. "The Estate, huh? You're so much more well off than I 'spected you ta be!"

"Well, it ain't all mine, but I do take some credit. Come in, come in!" Gin and Izuru were somewhat forcefully ushered inside, and the girl called Nel was set on her feet. "Go tell your Dad the guests are here. And see if Nnoitora tidied up the living room like he said he would."

"Okay!" Nel said with a toothless grin. "DAAAAAD!" She ran with bare feet down a pristine hall.

The man straightened up and ran long fingers through cornflower hair, turning to Izuru. "Hi. I'm Grimmjow Jaeggerjaques." He held out a square hand. "You must be Ichimaru's new significant. Pleasure to meet you."

"Kira Izuru." Izuru introduced himself with a smile, shaking Grimmjow's firm hand. "Pleasure to meet you too."

"Here, let me show you two to your room. We figured you wouldn't mind sharing, so we went ahead an' set up a king size bed for you." Grimmjow played the gentleman and took Izuru's suitcase in one hand, and Gin's in the other, and went and chivalrously tromped up the flight of stairs to the left. "It's in the bedroom at the end of the hall that we don't use. There's a bathroom attached, too, it has a both a tub and a shower, and his and hers sinks. Or rather, his and his sinks." Grimmjow laughed dryly at his own joke. He pushed open the white door to the bed room, and both Gin and Izuru gaped. The room must have at least been a thousand square feet, and the bed filled most of that. Grimmjow set their bags at the foot of the bed, and motioned for them to follow him. He showed them the crystalline bathroom with a sweeping hand gesture, then pushed them out the door for a grand tour of the Estate.

"…And here is the kitchen." Grimmjow said with a somewhat manic grin. _He's kind of forceful_, Izuru thought, his eyes glazing over at the sight of the stainless steel kitchen.

It was where the rest of the "family" was gathered. There was a tall island in the middle of the floor, surrounded by spindly barstools and a wide variety of people.

"They're here, everybody!" Grimmjow boomed, holding his arms open wide.

"Ichimaru!" The tallest of them crooned, his silk black hair falling in a sheet around his face, covering a white leather eye patch. He rose from his barstool, and Izuru craned his neck backward in order to continue to study his toothy, sneering face. "Long time no see, bro." He folded Gin up in a lanky, brief embrace. The man seemed to be easily seven feet tall.

"Ya haven't changed a bit, Nnoitora." Gin said with a laugh, patting Nnoitora's midsection, right on the edge of his ribcage.

"You haven't either," a low voice murmured. A man with ashen skin, raven hair and catty green eyes looked up from his sketchbook. Nel was seated in his lap, helping him draw whatever it is he was sketching with a fat, stubby, nubbin of a pencil. "You look exactly the same as you did in high school." Vertical teal lines ran down from his eyes like tears, but they appeared to be tattooed on. Emerald green eyes were turned on Izuru. "I'm Ulquiorra Schiffer, and welcome to our home." He said with a demure nod of his regal head. "I suppose I'll introduce everybody. This is my daughter Nelliel Tu Oderschvanck, but she prefers to be called Nel. This is Tia Hallibel," he gestured to a busty blond at his left elbow, whose hair was short for the most part, save the long tails hanging in sets of two on either side of her head. Her eyes were a piercing blue-green, and her skin was a gorgeous caramel bronze. "She's one of the boarders here, and is studying marine biology. Standing behind her is Nnoitora Gilga, another boarder. He's studying dentistry at the university." Nnoitora gave a dainty wave and a clinical grin. "And of course you've met my partner, Grimmjow."

"Of course." Izuru managed to choke out. It was certainly a very different crowd of people than Izuru was used to. Sure he hung out with interesting people on a daily basis, but… this was a different kind of interesting.

"I assume you've already eaten?" Ulquiorra said, glancing at the large, stylish mirror-faced clock on the eggshell white wall. It was approaching eight o'clock.

"Yeah. We stopped by a diner before we came ta find yer uh, house." Gin scratched the side of his head.

"Excellent. It's game night tonight, and Nel was wondering if you'd like to play a round of dominoes." Ulquiorra set his mechanical pencil down on the countertop, and Nel added some swirls to his drawing.

"The kind with lotsa dots." Nel interjected, swinging her legs back and forth and efficiently kicking Ulquiorra directly in the patellae. He vaguely winced.

"It's the only kind we have." He grumbled. The boarders began to drift away from the table, Tia towards the pantry and Nnoitora towards the living room, and what sounded like a fantasy video game.  
"I'll go get 'em!" Nel giggled, slapping the sketchbook down on the table and pointing at the floor to demand to be let down. Ulquiorra hefted her to the floor, and Izuru snuck a glance at the open sketchbook. It was a drawing of a chic, modern couch, the back sloping to one side and the seats orbicular and modular. Right over the top of it were some scribbles that appeared to be a drawing of her family; she, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow.

"Are you a designer?" Izuru blurted, and followed Gin's example as he perched himself atop one of the spindly barstools. Izuru was forced to take the stool beside Grimmjow, and leaned ever so slightly away from him and his maniacal grin.

"Yes." Ulquiorra answered simply, and flipped his sketchbook shut. "I'm a furniture designer, and creator of the furniture company 'Las Noches'. All the sofas, ottomans and upholstered chairs here in the Estate are from my first line, 'Bala', and all the tables are from my line 'Gran Rey'. But the setup in the dining room and kitchen is from my exclusive line 'Oscuras'. All the storage in the bedrooms is from my line 'Mundo', and all the lights, mattresses, mirrors and rugs throughout the house are from IKEA."

"That's so cool." Izuru sighed.

"Hey Grimmjow, what do you do for a livin'?" Gin asked, propping his elbows up on the counter, and resting his chin in his hands.

"I'm an architect." He said, figuratively puffing out his chest. "Right now I'm working with the university to design a new art wing." Nel padded up and slammed the tin of dominoes on top of the counter, standing on her tiptoes in order to reach. Grimmjow flinched, as she'd caught his pinky finger under the edge of the dominoes tin. He made an odd face, and continued with what he was saying. "Of course, I don't think I'll ever be as accomplished as Ulquiorra. But I can strive. I mean, I designed this house. Ulq an' I bought the plot of land as soon as we got enough money to." Grimmjow stuck his throbbing extremity in his mouth. "Hey Tia, you gonna play dominoes?" He asked around a mouthful of finger as the blond shuffled out of the cavernous pantry with a box of shark shaped fruit snacks.

"No. I have to call Starrk to make sure he and Lillynette didn't get totally smashed after their gig this morning. They have a habit of drinking if they thought their sound wasn't good." She opened the new box, and took a foil wrapped package out, and put the box under one arm so she could open the snack with her teeth. "And it was sounding like they didn't think they were quite up to snuff."  
"That's probably a good idea." Grimmjow nodded, and Ulquiorra opened the tin of dominoes.

"I'm going firthst!" Nel shouted, climbing up Ulquiorra's leg to sit in his lap. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes with a tiny smile for his daughter, and set out the first domino.

* * *

_AN _

_stick-figure-jesus..._

_continues to timeskip. _

_sfj  
_


	16. Ready

Gin and Izuru crawled into their bedroom around ten thirty, wiped out from six or seven rounds of the most competitive dominoes they'd ever played. Gin was still very pumped and restless, but Izuru was worn out like crazy. So he was very thankful when Gin offered to run a bubble bath for him. The water was very nice and warm, and the lavender bubble soap was nearly intoxicating. The tub was the biggest claw-foot tub Izuru had ever seen, complete with an ornate faucet, and steam rose lazily from the surface of the water. His knobby knees were bent and protruding from the warmth of the water, and he sank lower, dipping his chin into lavender-scented bubbles. He gave a deep sigh, relishing the relaxation of bathing in another person's incredibly elegant tub. Letting the stress of travel and strange places roll off him like the bath's steam, he leaned his head back on the tub's edge, closing his eyes, and there was a light knock on the door.

"'Zuru?" Gin asked quietly.

"Yeah?" Izuru's voice was resonant in his throat.

"Can I come in?"

Izuru felt his face get warm, and his gut twisted in warning. "S-sure. I suppose so."

The door creaked open, and Gin slithered in, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe that was somewhat reminiscent of the yukata that he had worn to the summer fireworks festival. Izuru's chin dipped below the water line again. "Can I comb your hair?" Gin picked a comb up from the counter with white, white fingers.

"Yeah."

Gin came and sat on the floor by Izuru's head, and began to run the comb through his damp hair. He smiled happily, breathing in Izuru's flowery scent. "Yer hair smells nice." Gin noted.  
"Thanks." Izuru splashed warm water on his face, hoping to maybe erase his blush. _Come on, Izuru. You sleep in the same twin bed as he. You should be able to handle having him so near while you're bathing. _He hugged his knees to his chest, liking the feeling of Gin's long fingers running over his scalp.

"Think there'd be room for me in the bath?"

Izuru's rear slipped suddenly, and the water sloshed about. "Huh?" He said, gripping the edge of the tub and righting himself. "Wh-why?"

"I'm dirty, too."

"Um."

Gin pushed himself up off the floor and set the comb back on the counter. He pulled open one of the drawers, and rummaged through it, looking for something. Not finding it, he shut the drawer and pulled open another. He came up with a hair scrunchy, and holding it in his teeth, pulled the majority of his hair into a small tail on the back of his head. He prompted to turn on his heel and drop the bathrobe to the ground, right before Izuru's wide eyes.

Gin then made himself right at home in the bathtub, the water rising a good two and a half inches. Both had their knees up under their chins, and… oh God, Gin's toes were touching Izuru's nether regions. All the blood in his body rushed to tint his face.

"G-Gin, your t-toes are touching m-my..." Gin understood, and much to Izuru's relief, moved his feet. Now their toes were overlapping and their knees were knocking, but nobody's personal regions were being taken by storm.

"Here." Gin said, and plunged his hands under the water to grab Izuru's fingers, which were gripping the undersides of his knees quite tightly. "Y' can hold my hands." He laced their fingers together.

"This is embarrassing." Izuru muttered, inspecting a cluster of bubbles floating just below his nose.

Gin leaned very close, so close their lips brushed, and Izuru was forced to lift his head. Placing one of the chaste kisses that Gin knew stole Izuru's heart on his lips, Gin knelt on bottom of the tub, his knees on either side of Izuru's boney ankles. Another kiss.

"D'ya think you're ready?" Gin whispered in Izuru's ear.

"For what?" Izuru croaked.

"T' get real intimate." Gin put his hands on Izuru's cheeks, looking him straight in the sapphire eyes.

"Right here?"

"You're right." Gin looked off into the distance over Izuru's shoulder, the pony tail his crystalline silver hair was pulled into deterring from the stoniness of his expression. "The bed would be a better place." He then prompted to climb out of the tub, splashing water on the floor. Flinging open a conveniently placed linen cabinet, he found a very large fluffy white towel, and pulled Izuru clumsily out of the bath. He put the towel over Izuru's head and began to dry him off, much like you would a dog you'd just scrubbed.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Izuru protested as Gin's vigorous drying yanked on his ear cuff.

Gin put the towel around Izuru's shoulders, and apologized with a quick kiss and a "Sorry, 'Zuru", pressing their bodies together as they explored each other's mouths. Groin ground against groin and Izuru fought to suppress the moan that was threatening to escape. Gin noticed this and smiled wickedly, thin ivory fingers curling under Izuru's jaw. "Like it, do we?"

"Sh-sh-shut up." Izuru stammered, his teeth clattering from the sudden change in temperature. He wrapped the towel very tight around his wet body.

"C'mon." Gin said, grabbing Izuru's hand and dragging him into the bedroom. Izuru left a trail of watery footprints leading up to the giant bed where Gin threw Izuru down on the feathery bedding and sat on his scrawny hips. "I think you're ready."

"I am?" Izuru squeaked, his cheeks turning a deep crimson.

"'R rather, I'm gettin' tired a waiting. I hope ya don't mind it rough."

"I've never done "it" before, so I guess you're going to have to set the standard for me." Izuru could tell his knees were shaking in either fear or anticipation.

"Oh, fun! Virgin flesh." Gin purred, running spidery fingers down a sensitive ribcage. Izuru's hands twisted sheets and he cried out as Gin began the dirty work.

* * *

Izuru was so very glad he had made Gin stop in the middle of their rolling about, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to walk in the morning, and that would have been embarrassing beyond measure. His eyes cracked open to the dull morning light, and a heavy feeling similar to that which he felt after a night of heavy drinking had settled about his temples, giving him a vague ringing headache. Sitting up, his ass throbbed faintly, but the pain wasn't as great as it had seemed it would be last night. Izuru pushed his tangle of blond hair away from his face and got out of bed and the mess of sheets, leaving Gin behind in a bundle of down comforter and feather pillows and porcelain pale lanky limbs. He cranked on the water in the bathroom sink and washed his face, scrubbing away the sand crusted around his eyes the Sandman had left behind while Izuru slept. Hearing a yawn and a grunt from the bedroom, Izuru guessed that Gin had arisen from the dead, and proceeded to pull the cap off the toothpaste and brush his skuzzy-feeling teeth. Gin shuffled into the bathroom, and shouldered up to Izuru, his broad simper spread across his chipper face. "Last night was fun, ne?"

Izuru grunted, and spat minty foam into the sink. He scraped his tongue and spat again, running the water to rinse the Colgate saliva down the drain. "I guess so."

"Guess so? I could tell by th' way you were screamin' that y' li-" Izuru elbowed Gin sharply in the ribs. "Oh, I get it. You're not the kind ta kiss 'n tell." Gin rubbed his side.

Izuru blushed and furiously brushed his hair over his left eye.

"Grimmjow said they'd be makin' breakfast 'round ten." Gin sighed, and ran a comb through his own hair.

"What time is it?" Izuru asked, flipping his hair over his shoulders.

Gin peeked out the bathroom door at the large clock similar to the one in the kitchen. "Nine fifty-six."

"Okay." Izuru gave himself a once over in the mirror, and adjusted the hem of his tee, then scuttled out of the bathroom and to the bed, where he found an afghan to wrap himself in. He sat on the bed, his tender buttocks protesting minutely, and waited while Gin let the water run as he brushed his teeth.

Gin tromped out of the bathroom, and together they tripped down the stairs to the kitchen, where the seven foot tall boarder stood over the stove, stooping low to scramble eggs for the tiny green-haired girl that was weaving between his toothpick legs.

"Is Grimmjow up yet?" He asked Nel, trying to shake her off his leg.

"Nope!" Nel laughed, yanking on Nnoitora's flannel pajama bottoms.

"Well, go wake him up! Tell him I'll burn his eggs if he doesn't come down!" He scooted Nel away with his toes, and she slapped her little hands on the shiny tiling, got up, and ran to wherever Grimmjow's room was located with happy giggles.

Ulquiorra was perched on a stool at the kitchen's island, sipping coffee with French vanilla creamer and sugar, a plate of peppered scrambled eggs before him, and an interior design magazine in his hand. He nonchalantly turned a page. "Morning, lovebirds." He purred.

Izuru blushed and hunched his shoulders, and Gin patted him on his back.

"It's not like we couldn't hear what you two were doing. Gin, teach the boy how to have sex quietly, next time. Anyway, how do you like your eggs? Nnoitora will make them however you like." Ulquiorra lifted his eyes very briefly from his magazine, and Izuru blushed harder at his comment about quiet sex.

"I like mine fried." Gin said, slumping onto a stool.

Izuru sat next to him so that their shoulders were touching. "Same, please."

Nnoitora growled at the cooking range, and dumped Nel's scrambled eggs on a plate. "One egg or two?"

"Two for each a us." Gin said.

"Trying to beef the kid up?" Ulquiorra asked into his coffee cup, which Izuru noticed had "#1 Dad" printed on it.

"Not really. But that's a good idea! He _is_ kinda skinny, ain't he." Gin leaned against Izuru's shoulder, almost pushing him off his stool. Izuru grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from crashing to the spick-and-span floor.

Ulquiorra nodded. "I'm sure you noticed that last night."

Gin shrugged, and Izuru wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He didn't have to be quite so abrupt with his comments about them having sex. But for some reason, Izuru felt like Ulquiorra wasn't going to let him live it down. Not ever. Ulquiorra swirled his coffee around in its mug, and Nel drug Grimmjow into the kitchen by the wrist. His blue hair was in absolute disarray, and dark circles were littered under his eyes, next to what looked like teal eyeliner, crisply smudged in shapes reminiscent of the markings around a panther's eyes. Or maybe jaguar. Anyway, Izuru guessed that the smudges were probably tattooed on like Ulquiorra's, as they had been there last night, too.

Grimmjow rubbed a sleepy eye, and Nel pulled on his wrist again, causing him to stumble. "C'mon, Grimmy! Sticky said that he'd burn yer eggsth if you don't come down!"

"Well, I'm down now, bug. And Sticky won't burn my eggs. I'd pound him into the ground if he did, anyway." Grimmjow mussed up Nel's sea foam green hair with a warm smile.

"Oh, good." Nel looked positively relieved, dropping Grimmjow's hand and placing a chubby hand over her chest and her army green oversized sleep shirt. She stopped in her tracks, and Grimmjow, in his happy, sleepy state, tripped over her little frame. Izuru gasped lightly as Grimmjow tumbled forward, dropped to the ground on his shoulder and somersaulted, bouncing to his feet next to the kitchen island. Nel swayed from the push she'd gotten from Grimmjow tripping over her, and fell back on her rear. All eyes turned to stare at Grimmjow and Nel and their unintentional acrobatics, save for Ulquiorra's, which were trained steadily on the Scandinavian furniture magazine.

"Somebody get my hubby his coffee." Ulquiorra said, sipping his coffee again.

"I'll get it." Izuru said, hopping up, hoping to get a little farther away from Ulquiorra and his snide comments about sex. A ceramic coffee cup was pressed into his hand by Nnoitora, and he was shoved in the direction of the coffee maker. Izuru pulled the clear coffee pot off its base, and poured a cup of dark black coffee. His eyes wandered around the small expanse of counter containing the coffee maker and slick brushed nickel toaster, and landed on a modern, high-end espresso machine. "You guys have an espresso machine?" He asked, turning around with "hubby's coffee". Grimmjow swooped Nel up from the floor, and balanced her on one hip. She wrapped chubby arms around Grimmjow's neck.

"Yeah, but nobody knows how to work it." Grimmjow answered, receiving his coffee from Izuru.

"I know how to work it." Izuru brightened. "Does anybody want a cappuccino or a latte? Does Nel want a vanilla steamer?"

"I'm fine with black coffee." Grimmjow said, taking a big gulp of his joe.

"I've already had my coffee." Ulquiorra set down his #1 Dad mug.

"There's some vanilla flavored syrup in the cupboard, and milk in the fridge, if you need it. I don't drink coffee, but Tia might want some sort of fancy drink." Nnoitora called from the stove, putting a lid on top of frying eggs. "She'll come down soon."

"All right." Izuru said, lugging the carton of milk out of the refrigerator, along with the vanilla flavoring and the little metal pitcher used for steaming milk. "Gin? You want a latte?"

"Can I share yours?"

"I guess so." Izuru shrugged, and flipped on the espresso machine.

As if on cue, Tia drug herself into the kitchen, her blond tails not beaded yet and pulled to the back of her head, twisted up and held in place with a small jaw clip. She trod over to Nnoitora and shouldered up beside him in a friendly manner, and struggled to reach up and get a cup from the top shelf in the cupboard above the stove. "Nnoi." She said quietly, and Nnoitora swiftly got a crystalline cup down for her. She grunted, and poured herself a glass of milk from the open carton Izuru had just gotten milk from for he and Gin's latte.

"Tia, do you want a fancy coffee?" Nnoitora asked, pushing fried eggs out of the pan and onto a plate to set before Gin. "We have someone who can work the espresso machine."

"If you can make me a super dry cappuccino with a heart drawn in the foam, then that's what I'll have for breakfast. Along with the eggs you're going to cook for me, Nnoi."

"One cappuccino, coming right up!" Izuru said with a smile as he began to steam the milk in its little metal pitcher.

* * *

_AN_

_This chapter was super delayed... Heh, sorry about that. I was having problems finishing it and proclaiming it done and ready to post. _

_The first part of this chapter was my Christmas gift to my good friend Clockwork-Seraph, who is so in love with this story she can't bear to give me criticism. _

_Please enjoy and sorry for the wait!_

_sfj _


	17. Sweet

Twas the night before Christmas.

All that day and into the evening, the kitchen had been a mess with Nel and Nnoitora's bantering and cookie baking, and last minute groceries were being bought. Nnoitora, the de facto resident chef, was making cinnamon rolls in the morning, and the pantry had been scraped of flour and yeast. Dazed, Izuru tried his best to stay positive and out of the way, as he was unused to the busy home life that the Estate employed. Gin swept around with the family members and boarders in a friendly manner, smiling breezily and helping out here and there by taste-testing the cookie dough and spilling the vanilla. Izuru watched as he danced away from Nnoitora's flailing electric beaters and made off with a handful of chocolate chips. He pranced up to Izuru and stuck a drop of chocolate between his pouting lips. The sweet chocolate melted on Izuru's tongue, and Gin skittered away in a flighty manner.

Ulquiorra appeared over Izuru's shoulder, coffee in hand. Taken by surprise, Izuru gasped and laid a hand over his chest. "Have you gotten a gift for Gin yet?" He asked, staring placidly forward.

Izuru's eyes widened and he whirled around. "I can't believe I completely forgot!" He smacked his hand to his forehead. "I haven't gotten him a gift yet!"

"I'll take you shopping." Ulquiorra said, and ghosted into the kitchen to put his mug in the spotless steel sink. Izuru watched as Ulquiorra stopped next to Grimmjow, who was seated at the kitchen's island, twirling a compass on a blueprint and measuring angles. Ulquiorra stood on tip toes to whisper in Grimmjow's ear, grasping his left shirtsleeve with a pallid hand. Grimmjow nodded, and Izuru was mesmerized by the domestic interaction.

* * *

When Izuru and Ulquiorra went to the four-car garage to get the car, Izuru was surprised to find that the car Ulquiorra went to was the last type of car he'd expect a high-end furniture designer to drive. Compared to the line-up of foreign, sleek compact cars, Ulquiorra's choice was a white tin can. Ulquiorra unlocked the rusting old minivan, and motioned for Izuru to get in the passenger seat. Still caught off guard, Izuru fumbled with the door handle and crawled in the van. "About the van; I'm a parent," Ulquiorra explained as Izuru buckled his seatbelt. "I need a car that can get dirty and hold a lot of things." He revved up the gasping engine and slowly backed out of the garage. He pressed what looked like a garage door opener, and the wrought-iron gates squealed open.

"I see." Izuru nodded, watching suburban houses become more frequent as they drove away from the Estate's somewhat rural location.

"Do you have any idea of what you want to get for Gin?"

"Not really." Izuru scratched the side of his head, puzzling over a good gift for his significant other. He was having difficulty coming up with something Gin would like to have and would use.  
"Do you have any pictures of each other?" Ulquiorra niggled his way into the flow of traffic on a fast-moving motor-way, glancing out the window and at the rear-view mirror, which had a pink Hello Kitty charm dangling from it.

Izuru shook his head. "No."

"Then get him a digital camera."

Izuru thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "He would like that, I think."

"I know where to get one." He made a sharp turn out of traffic, and Izuru clung for dear life.

Finally, he skid to a stop in front of an electronics store. They both disembarked from the van and strolled into the high-tech store, Izuru's eyes growing wide.

"You'll probably want a point-and-shoot that's small and very durable." Ulquiorra immediately gravitated towards the digital cameras, motioning for the techno-dazed Izuru to follow. He preened over the display, and Izuru picked one up to look closely at it. It was connected to a cord tethering it to the display shelf. _Clever_, Izuru thought, noting how it could easily prevent theft. Suddenly his lack of technology-savvy was a hindrance, and he was lost as to which to buy.

As if on cue, a pink-haired store clerk sauntered over, pushing his white-framed glasses further up the curve of his nose. "Are we finding everything all right?" He inquired, folding his arms loosely over his chest.

"We're hunting for an affordable point-and-shoot digital camera that can withstand drops out of the hands of someone who's very tall and spills." Ulquiorra replied to the androgynous staff's inquiry. He set down and a camera he was inspecting and gave a dead stare.

"Then you want this one." Unfazed by Ulquiorra's blatant unintentional glare, he meandered over to a compact camera on the other end of the display, and laid a lank hand on top of it. "It's one of the market's most durable. It can withstand drops from up to 50 feet, and is virtually water resistant. I wouldn't submerge it, though. It's very affordable, and takes lovely photographs."

He moved his hand, and Izuru hefted it off the display, its retractable cord extending. Pushing the power button, the camera started up with a short jingle. The screen on the back showed a clear image of the display ahead. Impressed, Izuru turned it off and set it back down, looking at the price tag. It _was_ affordable. "I don't know much about technology, but it looks like a good camera. I think I'll get it."

The clerk nodded, satisfied. "I'll run to the back and get one for you."

* * *

Once checked out, Izuru and Ulquiorra slunk back to the van, and crawled in. Buckling up and starting the white tin can, Ulquiorra turned his unnerving eyes on Izuru. "Do you suppose Nel would like a Christmas cake?" He asked, tapping is nails that were coated with chipped black polish on the worn steering wheel. "There's a bakery I know of right around the corner that has very good confections, that's open today. Would you mind making another stop? Because I think that Nel would very much like a cake on Christmas."

Izuru shrugged, as he was fine with it. "Sounds good to me." Secretly, he was hankering for a slice of good old strawberry cake.

"Excellent." Ulquiorra nodded, and lay his foot on the gas, drifting around the corner. And he parked. _We could have walked_, Izuru thought.

They got out again, and Ulquiorra pushed open the door to the well-lit and festive bakery. Bells clanged on the door handle, and Izuru's eyes widened at the vast array of baked goods. Truffles and tarts, cakes and cookies, you name it. Izuru's stomach growled, and he unconsciously drew nearer to the glass display cases. With folded arms, Ulquiorra dissected the cakes behind the glass with his acid green eyes, and the girl behind the counter came forward to greet the duo.

"Hi!" She exclaimed in a peppy voice. "Welcome back, Ulquiorra-san. How can I help you?" She fiddled with her burnt orange hair.

"What do you have by the way of cakes, woman?" Ulquiorra asked. Izuru was taken aback by his brusque way of addressing the girl.

"Oh, well, a lot of our cakes were bought up, but we still have a red velvet cake, a lemon crème cake, a strawberry cake-" Izuru's eyes lit up at the mention of strawberry cake. "-a chocolate almond cake, and a spice cake." She pointed at each cake in the case in turn, and Izuru's mouth watered.

"Inoue, there's also a vanilla cake in the back." Added a man about Izuru's age, who had black hair parted slightly off center and tucked behind his left ear, and glasses. His nametag pinned to his raspberry-colored apron read "Ishida", and a silver charm dangled from his bracelet.

"Thanks, Uryuu-kun." Inoue said with a broad smile. Ishida blushed and ducked into the kitchen through a set of two-directional double doors. "So those are the choices!" She said, turning back to Izuru and Ulquiorra with a grin.

"What kind of cake do you like?" Ulquiorra asked of Izuru, his arms still folded.

"Strawberry," he answered a little too quickly, then glanced around nervously. "I like strawberry."

Ulquiorra rubbed his chin in contemplation. Obviously deliberating, he covered his eyes with his hand. "Let's get the strawberry cake." he said finally, his hand flying away from his brow. "Decisions are grueling."

"It _is_ traditional to have strawberry cake on Christmas eve!" The girl chirped. "Uryuu-kun said he'd make me strawberry cupcakes when we get home tonight." Happily, Inoue boxed up the red and white strawberry cake, whole strawberries standing like turrets on a castle in the fluffy whipped cream frosting. She closed the lid, and ever so carefully tied the sweet shop's signature deep rose colored ribbon around the brown box, sticking down the ribbon with a gold sticker emblazoned with the shop's name and phone number. With the same kind of care, she put the boxed-up cake in a brown paper bag, and handed it very carefully to Izuru as Ulquiorra fished his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Oh, so you finally moved in with the glasses kid?" He handed Inoue a large bill, and she popped open the cash register.

"Well, his daddy found out that I lived alone and immediately arranged for me to stay with Uryuu-kun." She glanced down in a modest fashion and pink tinted her cheeks.

"That's good. You're safer living with another person. Trust me, I live with three others and a five year old daughter. Merry Christmas." He said rather unexpectedly, and with a small salute, stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and left the bakery. Izuru followed reluctantly, giving a petite jaunty wave before he stepped out the door. He trailed behind Ulquiorra in a stumbling manner, being careful not to jostle the cake. "Are you hungry?" Ulquiorra asked, slowing down once they reached the van. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began rapidly dialing. "We'll get dinner." He held the phone to his ear, and Izuru shifted his weight to his other foot. Hungry? He was famished. "Hello? Grimm, I'm taking the man to dinner. I can hear his stomach growling from six feet away… Yes, I mean Kira-kun." Pause. "No, it's not a date." Ulquiorra hung up and looked at Izuru. "We're getting dinner." He reiterated, and got in the driver's side of the van. Izuru hurried to follow, carefully setting the cake in the back seat.

It seemed as though Ulquiorra would meander through the Yokohama streets forever. They drove by restaurant after restaurant, and each time one passed, Izuru wanted to turn to the driver with a look of disdain. When finally Ulquiorra pulled up to the front of a Chinese food restaurant, Izuru barely drug himself to the table they were seated at by a short, sharp-looking woman with short, flippy black hair, straight bangs, two long braids and stabbing ash-colored eyes. She almost slammed their menus down, but then with a curt smile, asked them what they would like to drink and introduced herself as Shaolin. "What can I get for you?" She asked, whipping out a pad of paper.

They simultaneously opened their menus, and scanned the dinner menu. Ulquiorra was first to close his, his decision made. Izuru deliberated for longer over a food choice, but finally came to a conclusion and set down the menu. "I'll have the kung pao beef," Ulquiorra said. "and an egg-flower soup as an appetizer."

"And I'll have the lo mein noodles and an egg-flower soup." Izuru nodded with a tiny smile and handed his menu to Shaolin, who spirited herself away to the kitchen to yell at the chef in Chinese.  
Izuru and Ulquiorra sat in awkward silence until Shaolin brought them bowls of egg-flower soup and small cups of oolong tea. Falling on his soup at once, Izuru savored the sweet taste of the water chestnuts and the mild saltiness of the broth. "So," Izuru said rather quietly, setting his spoon down as he finished. "How long have you known Gin?" He tried to strike up a conversation with the otherwise brick wall-ish man.

Ulquiorra pushed a carrot around the perimeter of his bowl. "For ten years. We met in junior high school." He scooped up the carrot and put it in his mouth. "How long have _you_ known Ichimaru for?"  
Izuru scratched the side of his head. "Uh, since July."

"Not very long, I see."

"No, I guess not." Izuru gingerly sipped his oolong tea, embracing its bitterness.

"Careful around him, he has a bad habit of leaving unexpectedly for long periods of time. That was his thing in junior high and high school. There would be stretches of time, days long, when nobody would know where he is." Shaolin came to take away their empty bowls, scowling about something.

Izuru put his folded arms on the table. "I suppose I'll keep that in mind." He looked around the restaurant, taking in the traditional atmosphere, avoiding making eye contact with Ulquiorra.  
"Do you love him?" Asked Ulquiorra, his picked-at right forefinger tapping steadily on his cup of tea.

Izuru pinkened and began to fidget. "Well, yes, I suppose I do. Love him." He yanked his fingers through his pale hair and let his hands flutter around in unrest. "He's asked me several times if I love him and I said yes, but he's never directly said 'I love you' to me. Then again, I've never said that to him, either. I don't think those are words we throw around lightly. We've never really talked about it, though." Gradually, Izuru's voice climbed upward in pitch.

"Shh," Ulquiorra soothed, and his finger ceased tapping. "I think you really do have feelings for him. What is it you like about him?"

Izuru forced himself to sit on his hands. "He's very kind to me." He said slowly, another blush edging onto his cheeks. "And of course he's very good-looking. Even though we're worlds apart in education- I'm finishing my bachelor's this year- we can talk with mountains of ease. But he's a better smooth-talker than I am."

"That's always been one of Ichimaru's strong suits. Being able to talk his way out of situations, or being able to talk people into things. His tongue is as silver as his hair."

Izuru nodded. "I guess that now I'm just curious as to why he picked me."

"Oh, that's easy." Ulquiorra smirked, leaning back against the booth's bench seat. "You're adorable."

"You're too flattering," Izuru squeaked, putting his hands on his warm face.

Ulquiorra laughed lightly. "You know, Kira, I think that you and I are a lot alike." Ulquiorra stared at Izuru with a still unsmiling face, but his killer green eyes conveyed a tiny grin.

"You think so?" Izuru posed, pulling his wooden chopsticks out of their paper sleeve. "I think that you're much cooler than I am."

"We both have men who are taller and stupider than us."

"That's true." Izuru laughed, breaking apart his chopsticks. Ulquiorra did the same, just in time for their food to come. A steaming plate of lo mein was set before Izuru, and his forgotten hunger returned full-force. He stuffed noodles in his face as speedily and with as much daintiness as he could manage.

"Have you had any other boyfriends before Gin?" Ulquiorra sighed.

Izuru swallowed. "No. I haven't even had a girlfriend before I met Gin. Gin was also my first kiss."

"You're kidding." Ulquiorra expertly snapped up a peanut from his beef plate. "What was it like?"

Izuru jogged his memory, scratching the side of his head. "Well, I had stayed the night because Gin's dad had just died and it seemed like he needed another person around. We had fallen asleep on different futons, but Gin ended up in mine that morning. We were really close together, so um, when I rolled over to tell him to go away, our lips b-brushed and he ended up k-kissing me. I yelled at him for it." Izuru stammered ever so slightly.

"He must have really taken you by surprise. You don't seem like the yelling type." Hiding his smirk behind his lank hand, Ulquiorra stuck another peanut in his mouth.

"It freaked me out." Izuru put a hand over his heart.

"I punched the guy who stole my first kiss. I don't really remember him, but I do remember having to take him to the nurse at school. I broke his nose. We stopped going out after that." Ulquiorra sipped his water. "Then I went out with another guy for a while, but we broke up after he cheated on me with some chick. A few months later I met Grimmjow, though. We were lab partners in Biology. He and I were on and off for the longest time, though. Then we graduated and together we rented an apartment in downtown Yokohama when we first started college. I quit school after I was offered an incredibly promising job, but it didn't work out and I got on with a furniture production company instead, producing the furniture I designed for Las Noches. Grimmjow graduated last year, and has a job with the university designing the new art wing. It's going to be named after him, actually. The G. Jaeggerjaques Art Hall. He was a revolutionary student in both the art and mathematics department. All the professors recognized him as 'The Unruly Genius'."

"Wow, you two sound really well off." Izuru pushed the last of his noodles around. "Much more well off than I am. I'm just a store manager at Starbucks."

"I suppose we are well off." Ulquiorra sighed, and Shaolin came to fill up their water glasses and ask how the food was.

Falling to silence again, the two finished their meal and left for home. Izuru watched the city lights pass by as they drove back to the Estate. "Ugh," Ulquiorra grunted, leaning forward over the steering wheel. "Snow." Flecks of white flew at what seemed like hyper-speed past the van's windows. Izuru gazed at them drowsily, content with his full belly. He rested his head against the cool window, and breathed hot condensation onto the glass, sleepiness ebbing at the edges of his mind. His eyes drifted shut, and he tried to submit to the somnolence fogging his mind and take a catnap, but was jerked awake when Ulquiorra swerved to the side of the road, stomped on the brakes and threw the car into park. "I can't see to drive." He groaned, leaning back in his seat. Izuru lifted his head, and yawned, stretching his arms out in front of himself. He turned his head to look out the frosty window, and was astonished at the mass of snow outside.

"Holy shit," Izuru breathed, seeing nothing but a wall of white.

"My sentiments exactly." Ulquiorra griped, laying his arms over his eyes. "I need to let off some stress before I can attempt to make it home." He exhaled long and loud, and then everything fell to silence, the eerie hush-hush from the snow seeming to press itself inside the van. Izuru followed suit and leaned back, stealing a glance or two at Ulquiorra's lean figure. He could see why Grimmjow liked him. He had a nice body.

"Have you ever thought of experimenting with another man?" Ulquiorra asked, not removing his arms from his face.

"What do you mean?" Izuru's brow crinkled.

"Cheating on Ichimaru."

"No, not really. Not at all." Izuru gulped and rubbed his cheek, looking out the window again. He bristled when black painted skinny fingers brushed his chin, the hairs on the back of his neck and on his forearms standing on end.

He turned to face Ulquiorra, mouth open to ask what he was doing, but his voice was swallowed up. "Would you… with me…" Ulquiorra trailed off in a gasping fashion. His eyes seemed to bore straight into Izuru's soul; they were dark, exotic and seductive, oh, so seductive and provocative. Izuru's gut did flip-flops. In the heat of the moment and obviously hot to trot, they both pulled together, hungry mouths seeking purchase with the other set of lips. Ulquiorra's pallid hand swept aside Izuru's flaxen hair, then cupped his cheek almost roughly. Izuru welcomed it with a warm, open mouth and heavy breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, Ulquiorra pushed Izuru back into his seat, and with their mouths still exploring, climbed into Izuru's lap, his right knee rubbing the most awkward of places. Izuru fought back what pleasure was sparked by Ulquiorra's advances, and shoved him away. Even though he might have liked the taste of Ulquiorra's lips on his. _I'm definitely gay_, Izuru thought, his customary pink tint flushing out the apple-blossom white of his pale face. _Really, really, really gay._

Surprised, Ulquiorra sat back, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the snow-covered windshield. The still-parked car grumbled under them. "Excuse me." Ulquiorra said, ducking his head. "I didn't mean to." He retreated to the driver's seat, and turned on the windshield wipers, pushing a thin layer of snow off the van. Peering out, he put the van in drive and slowly turned back into the near-deserted highway.

"Don't worry about it." Izuru turned his hot face away, his hair falling back in his face.

Ulquiorra stared intensely at the road, focusing on driving a straight line. "Don't tell Grimmjow." He murmured, and began tapping his fingernails on the worn steering wheel.  
Izuru shook his head. "I wouldn't." His heart faintly thumped in his chest from the momentary thrill.

At last the reached the Estate, and the two, rugged from uncanny silence, slowly got out of the van. The garage door creaked down on its track, and Izuru pulled open the sliding door on the driver's side of the van to fetch Gin's gift and the strawberry cake. Light poured into the otherwise darkened garage through the open door leading to the mudroom. Reaching for the bag from the technology store, Izuru snagged it and straightened up. He turned on his heel, and was met by Ulquiorra and his pricking kelly eyes. Ulquiorra took a step forward, forcing Izuru to step back flush against the van's door. "We should keep in touch after you leave. Just in case you ever get tired of Ichimaru."

Izuru's mouth opened and closed several times. "You know, I'd really rather just be friends." He gulped.

Ulquiorra nodded, but still had Izuru pinned against the van. "I'd still like your number, though. And…" Izuru anticipated something odd, his stick-straight hair falling in his eyes. "Another kiss before we go back to our men." He splayed a hand on Izuru's chest, inspecting his black chipped nails with catty green eyes.

"Well, um…" Izuru began to sweat. It went against his personality to say no to someone at such a close proximity. Neither one noticed when a long thin shadow was cast in the light from the door. Feeling as though he intruded, Gin quickly stepped behind the door's frame, and peeked out. "Just one more kiss. But then no more. We already have boyfriends, and I don't like cheating on Gin." Izuru sighed, and bowed his head to touch his lips to Ulquiorra's. Gin flattened himself against the wall in the mudroom, suppressing a giggle. _I have ta tell Sousuke later._ He covered his mouth with his hand, biting his lip to fight his laughter. _I can't believe Izuru beat me to it!_

* * *

_AN_:

_BETCHA DIDN'T SEE THAT COMIN', DIDJA? Oh ho ho. _

_:|  
_

_Ha ha ha ha hah. Wow, I know this took way too long. I'm sorry ;3; However, BEHOLD! The longest chapter yet, at 3,937 words long. And I didn't actually want to end it. There were several more things I had wanted to write about in the same writing... stream... brain wave... something like that. Anyway, I'm sorry for the 3+ month delay on this chapter. :( I hope you guys like it, it was really hard to write, what with all my schoolwork absolutely throttling me. _

_See you in the next chapter, because it **is** coming, no matter how slowly! _

_sfj  
_


	18. FAREWELL AND THANK YOU!

_**HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS.**_

_Okay, I said the next chapter was coming, no matter how slowly, but I didn't mean this slowly aklsjdfs;a_ _  
_

Well, it's been over an entire year, and this story is nearing its second birthday in July. I completely abandoned writing this story in April or May of last year, and this is what I had still lying around in the TGKS document. It's completely unedited and I haven't read over it, but I want readers to have it as an apology from me, because I feel like I've disappointed some because I won't be updating ever again ;o; I'll also stick everything that was in my scratch pad for this fic, since there's parts I intended to work my way up to, and some deleted scenes.

**Thanks for reading**. I can't believe that even after being gone from for more than a year, people still read my stories. I'm entirely flattered and humbled. Thank you thank you thank you m(._.)m I've actually moved on to writing for a completely different fandom (Kpop anyone? SHINee? Exo? Look guys, I still write! www(.)asianfanfics(.)com/profile/view/143548), and I don't read Bleach anymore ;-;

Anyway, thanks _again_.

It's been real, everyone. Stay well, ok?

~sfj

* * *

Shuuhei fumbled with his now-heavier key ring, unlocking Matsumoto Rangiku's door with its newest shiny silver addition. He twisted the doorknob with his keys still in hand, and pushed open the door with his rear, his hands full with a package. It was their first Christmas together, and Shuuhei hoped that Matsumoto would like the gift he had gotten her. He set the package down at the foot of the couch, and shut the door. "Rangiku?" He called into their apartment as he unzipped his jacket, took off his shoes and hung his scarf on the hat stand. "I'm back."  
"Welcome back!" She replied. "I'm in the bedroom, I'll be out in a minute."  
"Okay." Shuuhei said, and wandered to the kitchen to rummage for ingredients for cake. He pulled the tub of flour out, and the baking soda and sugar. He accounted seven eggs, half a quart of milk and two sticks of butter in the fridge, but no heavy whipping cream or strawberries. _We're gonna have to go to the store, _he made a face, and shut the fridge to pull open the spice drawer.  
Matsumoto padded out of the bedroom in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, her own package in her hands. "Hey you," she smiled, giving Shuuhei a kiss on the cheek with the triplet scars. "Making a cake?" She went to the living room and set her package on top of Shuuhei's.  
"Yep." Shuuhei shut the spice drawer. "But we need to go to the store for some things."  
"How bad is it outside?" Matsumoto peeked out the curtains at the snow-encrusted outdoors.  
"It's pretty snowy, but the store is close. We could walk." Shuuhei peeked out the curtains too.  
"That actually sounds kind of fun!" Matsumoto giggled. "A Christmas Eve walk in the snow."  
Shuuhei broke into a smile. "Let's do it."  
"I'll go get my boots!" Matsumoto grinned, and skittered to their tiny genkan to put on her rubber boots. Shuuhei sat down next to her, and put on his own hiking boots, lacing them tightly around his ankles.

Once both of them were sufficiently bundled up to bear the Sapporo cold, arm in arm, they promenaded down the street, tiny flecks of white swirling around them. Shuuhei scuffed his feet, leaving long trails of gray concrete behind himself. "I wonder how Gin and Izuru are doing in Yokohama." Matsumoto wondered aloud.  
"I'm sure they're doing fine." Shuuhei sighed, nestling closer to Matsumoto.  
"Do you ever think that Izuru might be uncomfortable with Gin?" She mused, laying her head on Shuuhei's shoulder. "I mean, I haven't known Izuru for that long, but he never really struck me as the kind of person who would go for a guy like Gin. Gin has been my friend the longest, but he does have some qualities that aren't that great." She slipped ever so slightly, and clung tighter to Shuuhei's jacketed arm.  
Shuuhei kept Matsumoto standing, his breath fogging in the chilly air. "Like what?"  
"He disappears," They approached the store, and the automatic doors slid open. "Did you ever notice it?"  
"Yeah, I guess I did. He was well known for his truancy." The produce section came first, and the two gravitated towards the much picked-over case displaying strawberries in clear plastic packages. Shuuhei picked up one of the cartons, and looked it over carefully. Spying a decomposing berry, he set it back down. "He never really came to class. At the time, I think that all the teachers had suspected him of smoking on the school's roof." Matsumoto joined Shuuhei in strawberry inspecting, pulling her knit hat off her head. "Which he might have been." Shuuhei found a package of strawberries that were all red and not decaying, and steered Matsumoto in the direction of dairy.  
"That could have been." Matsumoto exhaled as Shuuhei pulled open the cooler's door to get whipping cream. "But what do you think of Izuru and Gin together?"  
"I don't think anything." Shuuhei grunted, and wandered over to the baking aisle to get powdered sugar for the frosting.  
"Oh, come on, Shuu. You can't tell me they lack passion."  
"I'm not saying they're dispassionate," Shuuhei said, scanning the shelves for the cheapest bag of confectioner's sugar. "But I'm not the most pleased with their relationship, either. Izuru is my friend and Ichimaru is not. It's pretty simple."  
Matsumoto tsked. "You know, I've always admired Izuru's passion. He's a big person with a lot of pride under that meek exterior. And he has a ton of passion. He would probably kill if it came to something he really cared about."  
"That'd be a sight to see." Shuuhei laughed, and they paid and stepped out into the freezing cold again. Matsumoto stuffed her hat on her head, and Shuuhei lightly swung their bag of groceries back and forth.  
Matsumoto giggled, and twined her fingers with Shuuhei's. "It would be, wouldn't it. Izuru is a softy, like you."  
"Like me? You think I'm soft?" Shuuhei bumped against Matsumoto in a friendly manner, smiling widely.  
"You're a giant teddy bear!" She snuggled close to him, and the snow began to fall heavier around them. They chuckled, snow settling on their shoulders. Enjoying the walk, Matsumoto turned her face to the sky. Snowflakes clung to her eyelashes, and her cheeks were pinched with pink warmth.

Izuru and Ulquiorra broke apart from their kiss, and quickly stepped away from each other. Izuru shut the van's door, and Ulquiorra locked it, the two of them shuffling into the mudroom. Putting on his game face, Gin broke into his manic simper, skittering in front of Izuru. _Make 'im think I didn't see_, Gin reminded himself.  
"Kira, I'll take the cake into the kitchen." Ulquiorra said in a dead voice, holding his hand out. Izuru placed the handles of the brown bag in Ulquiorra's hand, and Ulquiorra disappeared into the rest of the house.  
"Ya got a cake?" Gin asked, taking both of Izuru's hands in his own and placing a chaste kiss on his nose.  
Izuru blushed. "Yeah."  
"What else did you get?" Gin nosed, attempting to sneak a peek in Izuru's other bag.  
"That's your gift!" Izuru cried, putting his hand behind his back.  
"I won't peek, then." Gin smiled, putting their foreheads together. He tipped Izuru's chin up with spidery fingers, and asked for a kiss with ardent lips. Izuru complied, realizing that he preferred Gin's kisses to Ulquiorra's. It was much harder to kiss someone who was shorter than you. And besides, Gin was much more gentle and subtle with his passion. Their lips lingered in each other's warmth, Gin's silver hair tickling Izuru's slim nose. "Merry Christmas." Gin whispered into Izuru's mouth.  
Izuru turned rouge. "I should go wrap your gift." He breathed.  
"I'll go eat th' cake y' brought back." Gin enfolded Izuru with his lanky arms.  
"Save some for me." Izuru smiled, and Gin released him. "I'm the one who picked it out."  
Separating, the two went to do the things they had said. Izuru came back with a simply-wrapped gift, and set it with the other presents in the living room. He drifted into the kitchen, and was beckoned over to the kitchen's island, where the cake was already being mutilated and served to salivating boarders and family members. Izuru was handed a plate with a generous slice of cake and a fork, and contented, he sat at the only open stool between Tia and Gin. He ignored Ulquiorra eyeing him hungrily, and bit into the spongy vanilla cake with as wide a grin he could manage around his fork. He watched Nel as she giggled with glee and attempted to feed Grimmjow cake with her bare hands, having abandoned her fork after the first five bites. She purposefully missed his mouth and took pleasure in smearing whipped cream and cake on his cheek. Grimmjow smiled despite his displeasure, and licked cream off his lips.  
Later that night, Gin and Izuru crawled into bed together with bellies full of Christmas cake and hot chocolate. Gin stealthily snaked an arm around Izuru's waist, pulling their bodies close. "Merry first Christmas with me," he whispered into Izuru's pinkening right ear.

Making an absolute mess out of the kitchen together, Matsumoto and Shuuhei followed no recipe in particular to make a spongy white cake to top with whipped cream and strawberries. It wasn't the most beautiful thing that Shuuhei had ever baked- and he had baked some pretty beautiful things- but it tasted like heaven and there wasn't anyone else he'd rather share it with than Matsumoto. They sat down on the breaking-down couch, accompanied by frilly rose pink pillows, each with a slice of homemade Christmas cake. Contented by the domesticity of it all, Shuuhei bit into his cake.  
"Damn it all." A teen voice grumbled from outside the apartment, and Matsumoto's front door creaked open, a short, white-haired young man stepping in from the cold. His cheeks were chapped pink and a teal scarf was wrapped at least twenty times around his neck. His red fingers had no gloves, and they were shaking like leaves.  
"Toushirou!" Matsumoto exclaimed, straightening up. "What happened? You look frozen!" Toushirou untangled himself from his scarf, and kicked off his shoes. He put his shoes by the door and hung his scarf on the hat stand. "Grandmother and I had a fight. The grouchy old hag…"  
"Will everything be all right?" Fussing to resituate herself, Matsumoto pat the couch cushion neighboring hers, beckoning Toushirou to come sit next to her.  
Toushirou plopped down with an elaborated sigh. "We just need some space. She thinks my education is _so_ important, but when it all boils down, none of it is going to matter in the end." His voice dripped with sarcasm, and he folded his arms. "I mean, what good is schooling going to do me? I should just find a wife and settle down, or become a mechanic or something."  
Matsumoto thoughtfully took a bite of cake, and Shuuhei raised his eyebrows, feeling somewhat intruded upon. "That's a sour outlook to have on life." Toushirou shrugged at her comment. "School is important, 'Shirou, and you're really smart. You could become a graphic designer. Or you could study music. I know you like to play drums."  
"Yeah, but where am I going to go in life if all I can do is play drums?" Toushirou frowned.  
"You're talented, kid, don't let it go to waste. Your grandmother's words have truth to them."  
Toushirou harrumphed and turned his glare at the wall. "I'm still not going home."  
Matsumoto shrugged, and Shuuhei furrowed his brow. "Fine then, stay here."  
"Wait, you're just going to let him stay here?" Shuuhei interjected, offended. His eyebrows pushed together, and the corners of his mouth turned down.  
"Of course I'm just going to let him stay here. Where else would he go?" Matsumoto prodded at her cake, and stuffed another bite into her mouth.

* * *

Everything from here down is from my scratch pad ^^ I've forgotten where everything fit in exactly, so feel free to make whatever sense of it you like~

* * *

Things fell back to normal when they arrived back from Kyoto. Izuru had missed two days of classes, but the make-up work wasn't all that hard, and besides, he was in high spirits. Really! I mean, we had... Izuru refrained from thinking the dirty word. ...Fun. It screamed "euphemism". They'd done this and that and, amn, it felt good. Sure, his ass was sore as hell, and they probably wouldn't be able to do it again for a while yet, but Izuru couldn't wait. He was convinced now. He even thought about maybe coming out of the closet the rest of the way. (He already had an arm and a leg out the wardrobe doors.) True, he was sad to leave Narnia, but the world outside the closet seemed so enticing. There was Gin and gay bars and protests... the list could go on! But then he really thought about it. Out and proud seemed very out of character for him. So he pushed those worries to the back of the closet and hoped nobody would notice the foot holding the closet door open.  
Okay, so maybe he wouldn't make some spectacular exit. But he did feel a lot more comfortable with Gin. They could crash on the couch together and not feel obligated to fill the air with petty conversation. It seemed that even Shuuhei felt just a little more comfortable with the two. Now that he and Matsumoto had gotten together.  
Which is why Izuru didn't seem all that surprised when Shuuhei made an announcement.  
"Matsumoto wants me to move in with her." He said, jamming bread into the malfunctioning toaster. "Is that okay?"  
Izuru shrugged. "Do you need help moving your things?" He asked, loading jars of jam into his arms.  
"So you're cool with it?" Shuuhei brought out two small plates.  
Izuru shrugged again. "Yeah. But you have to take that toaster with you."  
Shuuhei flashed a frown. "But Ran already has a toaster."  
"Consider it a housewarming gift."  
Shuuhei shook his head, and the toast popped up in a puff of smoke. "What will you do once I'm gone?"  
"I'll probably rent out the top floor again, or move up to the top floor and rent the bottom out, for a change of scenery." Gin is looking for a place, but I think I might just offer him my bed. Two could fit, if we cuddle really close together, Izuru thought as he and Shuuhei sat down to toast at the kitchen table.  
"Oh, okay."  
Eating commenced quietly.

* * *

There was a potential renter. Her name was Kotetsu Isane, and Izuru immediately recognized her as a regular at the Starbucks. She was easily a half a head taller than Izuru, about the same height as Gin, with matte gray hair and dark charcoal eyes. She was meek and shy and down-to-earth, with a bashful smile and an easy-going personality.  
When they talked over the phone about rent, they concluded that she would pay ¥60,000 every month, which was average for rent. Izuru decided that yes, he would move to the upstairs and let Kotetsu Isane take the downstairs. He explained to her that the kitchen and the living room were "community" rooms, that every other month they would switch off for who would buy groceries, if you made a mess in any of the "community" rooms, you were responsible for cleaning it up, and once a month they would pull together some teamwork to do major cleaning in the shared parts of the downstairs, including the front hall and miniscule yard. She agreed to these terms, telling Izuru they were "reasonable and very good rules". They then decided that she would start moving her things in at the beginning of the week after next, right after the term ended.

She was bisexual, they found out, and had a major crush on her coworker, Unohana Retsu, the head nurse in their department. Whenever Isane would talk about Unohana, her eyes would fill to the brim with adoration.  
She also invited Izuru and Gin to the gay alliance club she went to on Thursday nights. It was on the university campus, and the teacher who headed the club was actually Izuru's Trigonometry teacher, Szayel Aporro Grantz. A flaming one, he was.  
He sat cross-legged on the table top, wearing a skin tight crimson cashmere sweater, light washed skinny jeans and gray Converse tennis shoes. It had initially shocked Izuru to see his professor wearing something other than shiny shoes and dress clothes. So he averted his eyes and glanced around the room at the rest of the attendees. There was Isane, of course, and Gin, and lots of other people Izuru recognized but couldn't name.  
"Okay!" Professor Grantz announced in his loud tenor voice. "Isane-nee-chan brought in new members today, so we're going to go around and introduce ourselves!" He flipped his pink hair out of his face. "I'm Szayel Aporro Grantz. Please don't call me Professor Grantz here, I'm not here to teach. Okay, so let's go counter-clockwise, starting with my older brother here." He gestured to a man with very long blond hair.  
"I'm Yylfordt. Grantz. Szayel's brother." He said with a wave and wide eyes.  
After him came a very short younger-looking man with messy black hair and a skinny braid that hung to the middle of his back. He looked up with buttery yellow eyes. "Ggio Vega," He said. "Welcome." He smirked.  
Next was a man that Izuru saw on campus quite often. He had chin-length silky black hair, steely gray eyes, and red and yellow feathers on his upper lashes and eyebrow on the right side of his face. "I'm Ayasegawa Yumichika." He gave a conceited smile.  
Next came Isane, then a short woman with sharp eyes and flippy black hair. "Shaolin Fon." She sneered.  
Charlotte Cuuhlhourne introduced itself next. It was hard to tell if he/she was a man/woman. He/she wore a mini skirt and fishnet leggings, and a deep V-neck shirt with "sexy" written in silver rhinestones on the front. Fortunately Izuru and Gin were able to govern from the timbre of Charlotte's voice that he/she was most definitely a man. Charlotte gestured dramatically for the butch girl sitting next to him to introduce herself. Her name was Apacci. "It's just Apacci. I don't have a last name that I'm aware of." Her left eye was outlined heavily with pink eyeliner. Izuru wondered if maybe she'd forgotten to do the other eye that morning, then he realized that one eye was ice blue and the other was a deep amber. The eye outlined in pink was the amber one. Apacci nudged the girl next to her, who introduced herself as Sung-Sun. Sung-Sun's hair was long and a murky green-black, and her eyes were lavender. It appeared she had borrowed Apacci's pink eyeliner to draw three dots that decreased in size as they traveled down from her right eye. Apacci and Sung-Sun held hands.  
"Luppi Antenor!" The guy next to Sung-Sun sing-songed, holding his arms out in a "v", the arms of his white shirt much too long and covering his hands and then some. The long-haired blond next to him made a face of disgust, and introduced himself.  
"Findor Carias." His gray eyes were outlined in lavender.  
Izuru was next. He gulped and waved faintly. "Kira Izuru."  
Gin looped his arm around Izuru's shoulders with a sly grin. "I'm Ichimaru Gin." Gin's move to draw Izuru closer elicited multiple "aww's" from the smallish group.  
"Ugh, I hate being single!" Luppi whined, pounding his fist on his knee. He folded his arms.  
"I'll take you out sometime." Yylfordt offered.  
Luppi snorted. "Yeah, you wish."  
Szayel Aporro clapped his hands together. "All right! Let's get to business. Does anybody have anything they want to share today?" His caramel eyes were bright.  
Luppi's hand shot into the air. "Oh, pick me!"  
"Luppi?" Szayel's eyes seemed to suddenly grow tired.  
"Shit, I forgot what I was going to say."  
"Let us know when it comes back to you," Szayel Aporro said with a smile. "Anybody else?" Shaolin Fon tentatively raised a dainty hand. "Shaolin?"  
"Yoruichi-sama returned my calls." She dropped her hand back into her lap. "She said we could go get lunch on the 20th."  
"That's great, Shaolin!" Szayel Aporro boomed. The group members nodded emphatically with their support. "Do our new members have anything to share?"  
Izuru shook his head, but Gin leaned forward with something to say. "We just got back from a trip ta Kyoto, where I ran into an old friend from th' GSA club we had in high school."  
"Wow," Szayel Aporro said. "Impressive. It's always nice to run into old friends."  
"You bet." Gin nodded.

* * *

[Note: This was written to make TGKS sound like it was a film XD I thought it was funny at the time, but I'm not too sure anymore lol]

The director looked up with dread at the rumbling sky, and a fat rain drop landed on his rimless glasses. "Hey everybody," He said into his megaphone. "We're going to have to postpone the Kyoto cemetery scene." There was heated grumbling as the cast and crew helped set up tents and covers to protect themselves and the equipment from the rain. Izuru zipped up his rain jacket and cracked open a bottle of water, preparing himself to wait out the storm. He watched as the director and the producer put their heads together and discussed what to do while it was pouring water from the skies. "Okay!" The director boomed after a moment or two. "We're going to have friendship building with all the cast members! Extras included, so get your butts over here." There was groaning as the cast gathered under a canopy.  
Several "ice-breaking" activities later (which were pointless, being as the cast had gotten to know each other months ago when filming began), the rain cleared up, and everybody was pumped to start filming.

* * *

I must stop drinking during the week. I must stop drinking during the week. Izuru repeated this mantra over and over as he ran to his class. He was sure Professor Kuchiki was going to skin him alive, being as today was a test day, and being late on test days was unacceptable. I must stop drinking during the week. He burst through the classroom door and slunk to his seat, throwing his backpack down next to his chair. Professor Kuchiki was just beginning to pass out the tests, his face hard and stern as he forcefully slapped a copy down on Izuru's desk. Izuru flinched and ducked his head, making himself small. The man had a very intimidating presence, his black suit and black tie completing the incriminating look. His dark eyes pierced the air as he shot Izuru one last dirty look before continuing on down the row of desks. Izuru grudgingly wrote his name, put his pencil to paper to answer the first question then realized something very important.  
He hadn't studied.  
Wilting, he answered as best he could, hoping that the answers he yarned out of thin air would suffice. He put his pencil down and slumped onto his desk in defeat. I must stop drinking during the week. Professor Kuchiki pulled the papers out from under Izuru's cheek, and set it on top of the pile of other tests he was collecting.

* * *

Why had Gin taken a sudden interest in him? Izuru had never even seen Gin before, and yet Gin was interacting with Izuru as if they were good friends. But somehow, Izuru wasn't uncomfortable with it, and he might even like to actually be friends with Gin. He flicked his eyes at Gin's smiling face.

* * *

In a small way, Izuru subconsciously hoped that Gin might be one of those few people to believe him when he said that he was truly happy. He maybe needed someone like that, a friend to rely on. Maybe they both did.

* * *

He made no move to shake Gin's arm off. It was actually rather comfortable.

* * *

_"Gin, how long have you watched me here at the cemetery?"  
"Long time." Gin answered simply, shifting to his other foot. "Long enough to know that your hair ain't always been that long. Or that you've gotten taller. I watched you from far away when them folks and you first brought your parents' ashes. I watched the look on your face."  
"What did I look like?"  
"Wretched." Gin lurched forward, tracing Izuru's cheekbones with his pale thumbs. "Your cheeks were hollow and pale, your arms were too skinny, you walked with a hunch. And your eyes were not blue." Izuru tipped his chin up to look Gin in the half-closed eyes. They shuffled closer together. "They weren't."  
"But my eyes have always been blue." Izuru protested.  
"They didn't turn blue til I talked to you the first time. Before then, they were the color of death. They were lifeless."  
"I'm not sure I get what it is you're saying."  
"I think you love me, Kira Izuru."  
The first time Gin calls Izuru by his full name knocks the wind out of Izuru. A flood of red heat rushes to the cheeks Gin is tracing arcs on with his thumbs.  
"Well, is it true?"  
"To an extent. I mean, I'm learning..."  
The answer was good enough for Gin._

* * *

_"Gin, how long have you watched me in the cemetery?"  
"Not very long." Gin shifted to his other foot. "It hadn't even been two weeks before we chatted for the first time."  
"Really?" Izuru wrapped his lean arms around himself.  
"Talking to ya for the first time was really hard for me." Gin looked away with his sly smile.  
"It was? I just thought you were creepy."  
Gin laughed lightly at that. "Do you love me?" He asked after they'd sighed in unison and taken a long, mellow pause.  
Izuru flushed, and Gin coveted the warmth behind his cheeks. "I don't know. I mean- I guess I'm learning."  
It was a good enough answer for Gin.  
_

* * *

American pop music blared from the living room, and the sound of old school video games was coming from the television and the Nintendo 64. In the midst of it all, Izuru sat on a modular white leather chair, ramrod straight, nervously eyeballing the fluffy white Persian cat that was flicking its tail back and forth as it watched Grimmjow and Nnoitora play two-player Tetris. Any moment now his allergies would kick in and he'd be sent into a fit of sneezing. Any moment now. Grimmjow threw his controller down and cussed, and Nnoitora threw his arms up in a victory stance. Grimmjow stood up and sulked over to the Persian and scooped it up. "I'm not a loser to you, right, Pantera?" He crooned, scratching it behind its ears. It purred, and the hair on the back of Izuru's neck stood up, his nose beginning to tickle.


End file.
